Foreshadowing the Unexpected
by A-is-for-Amy
Summary: The promised sequel to of “Foreshadowing the Past”. Harry and Ginny’s son, Connor is moving into his third year at Hogwarts, and will face a new set of challenges in the form new characters, new classes, and an unwanted increase to his precognitiv
1. Default Chapter

**A/N - **

Hello everyone! I'm going to assume that if you're reading this that you've also read "Foreshadowing the Past" and I'm thrilled that you're back for more. "Foreshadowing the Unexpected" is completely mapped out, and well underway. I hope to post new chapters weekly, and will address any comments or questions that any of you might have on my Live Journal, which can be found here: 

I'll also post a list of the Weasley/Potter families, so you know which children belong to whom (always helpful in a family this big!). Please drop by and introduce yourself!

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**Chapter one – Reacquaintances**

_There is no limit to how complicated things can get, on account of one thing always leading to another. --E. B. White_

Connor Potter stepped out of the steamy workroom at the Dog Star broom factory and wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his tee shirt. Today was the last day he would be forced to set foot in that room for a long time, and he was glad of it. He had thought that working for his father for the summer wouldn't be so bad, but quickly found that it was actually hard work. He had spent the past week in the 'handle shaping room', learning how to get the curve on the handle of the newest model of Daytripper brooms just right. Unfortunately for him, shaping the wood of a broomstick handle required the wood to be infused with magical steam to make it pliable. Connor had been feeling damp and out of sorts all week. He scratched absently at his hands, thinking that it was a good thing his time in the room was over - he thought he might have a mild allergy to the steam. His hands were itching like crazy lately.

"Ready to go, Con?"

Connor turned to see his father poking his head out of his office, and went to join him. He was ready, all right! Tomorrow his friends would be arriving for their promised visit for the last week of August, just before the school term began. Connor and his friends would be entering their third year at Hogwarts - except for his cousin Rachel, who would be starting her second. He hadn't seen anyone but Rachel all summer and was anxious to get caught up with Ivy, Zack and Quentin. Owls were all fine and good, but it just wasn't the same as seeing them face-to-face.

He waved to his Uncle Ron, who was sitting with his feet up on his father's desk. There were scrolls of parchment everywhere and several different types of brooms up on racks all up and down the back wall of the office. Rachel wandered into the room a moment later, sucking on one of her fingers. Connor looked at her enquiringly.

"Bad splinter," she explained.

Rachel had also been put to work this summer as a sort of punishment for the trouble they had gotten into at school last term. As far as punishments went, it could have been much worse, and they were even given a pay slip at the end of each week, telling them how much money had been deposited into their Gringotts accounts. True, they wouldn't really have access to that money until they were of legal Wizarding age, but it was nice to know it was there, and that they had really earned it.

"You ready for tomorrow? We're going to pick up Zack at eleven, and then the others are Flooing over at noon," Connor asked her, wishing he had washed his hands as soon as he'd left the steaming room; they really itched!

"Yeah," she said with a grin. "I'm almost packed."

"I still don't get why you're sleeping at Harry and Ginny's when you could just Floo over there every day," her father said.

"Because I want to be with my friends!" Rachel said. "I've been cooped up with Gwen and Prue all summer!"

Ron merely shrugged at his daughter. "I suppose it makes as much sense as anything you girls do. I'm just glad I've got your mother around to handle the big problems."

"Well, you two have worked off your punishment," Harry told them with a smile. He had often told them how impressed he was that they hadn't complained about the hard work all summer. Connor knew it was because he, at least, hadn't wanted to risk getting into any more trouble, which would mean the possibility of not spending the last week of summer with their school friends. "And you did good work, so Ron and I decided that you deserve a little extra bonus." Harry handed them each a pay slip, and they grinned at the sight of their new bank balances.

"And we'll give you a little extra pocket money when we go to get your school things," Ron said, standing up. "Now, let's get out of here!"

They used the Floo near the entrance of the factory. Connor left with a feeling of relief: tomorrow he would be waking up to get ready to pick up his Muggle-born friend Zack Ellis, instead of going to work with his father. No more sorting through tons of twigs to find the ones good enough to be part of a Dog Star broom, no more magical steam, and no more handle wax!

His hours of buffing broom handles by hand were over, though the manual labour had done him good. His arms were much more muscular than they had been in June, and even his sister Lucy had noticed the change. The best part about it was that more muscled arms meant that he'd probably have a stronger throw for his position as Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It seemed like ages since he'd been up on his broom, and he was eager for his friends to arrive so that they could all spend some time in the air.

As soon as he stepped out of the Floo at home, his mother called for him to go wash up for dinner. Connor headed upstairs. Once in his room, he saw that his bed had been converted into a bunk bed, and that another bed had been squeezed in to accommodate his expected friends. The guest room would no doubt have been made up for Rachel and Ivy to share as well. Looking at the picture of them on his dresser, he saw himself and his friends waving cheekily at him as they shuffled in place. He smiled happily as he stripped off the loose robes he wore hanging open over his tee shirt and jeans. He noted that his jeans were becoming way too short to be worn again; his mother would drag him out for more. He hated shopping for new clothes.

He took a quick shower, and only roughly dried his hair. It didn't matter if he combed it, since he'd had his mother cut it very short when he'd begun working in the steam room at the factory. His mother often lamented the fact that he had inherited his father's hair along with everything else, but Connor didn't mind much, he just wanted it out of his face. Everyone was always saying how handsome his father was despite his messy hair, weren't they? Well, with any luck, Connor would continue to look just as his father had at thirteen.

At the dinner table, Lucy and Ian were arguing as usual, over some trivial play at the Quidditch game they had attended earlier in the week. Adam had his Puffskein, Snowball, on the table and was listening intently to its crooning. Connor eyed the strangely coloured Puffskein with something close to revulsion; whatever had happened to make this one white, instead of the usual custard, had also caused it to grow to three times the normal size. It was kind of creepy. Not only that, but the thing growled at Connor whenever he got too near to it. Puffskeins were not supposed to growl.

His mum was busily mashing potatoes when she spotted Connor approaching the table. "Okay, Adam, go put Snowball in his cage. It's time for dinner."

Dobby, the Potter family's house elf, was busily setting the table, and smiled at Connor in greeting. Adam huffed sulkily at having to put his pet away, but did as she asked, scooping up the Bludger-sized ball of fur and carrying him upstairs.

"I'm surprised the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures hasn't come 'round to confiscate that thing," Connor said once Adam was out of earshot. "It's just not normal."

"I've never been able to get George to tell me where or how he got it either," his mum answered. "But Adam loves it."

Connor gave a little shudder and changed the subject. "Are you sure that the Ellis' house will be on the Floo by the time we need to go and get him?" he asked, for the hundredth time that week.

"Yes, Connor," Ginny answered patiently. "They're probably already connected by now. Stop worrying about it. If it's not connected, your father or I can Apparate over and let them know about the delay."

"Can I call him and see if it works?" he asked hopefully.

"No," she said predictably. "What if they've got company? Besides, they're not used to it, and you might scare them half to death! Just wait until tomorrow, and you'll see him in person."

At that point, Harry came to the table with his hair damp, wearing fresh robes. Talk turned to everyday affairs. Connor tuned out and thought about all of the things he and his friends could do for the next week.

After dinner, Connor spent an hour with the Occlumency tutor his parents had hired for the summer. Most kids his age would never have need for such a tutor, or such a skill, but then most kids his age weren't clairvoyant, either.

During Connor's previous term at Hogwarts, he and some friends had become involved in solving a twenty-year-old mystery whose main clues had come to Connor in the form of unusual precognitive dreams. Once that mystery had been solved, Connor began to notice a marked increase in the frequency of clairvoyant images he experienced each day until it got to the point of being a nuisance, then a real problem. Connor had been having intermittent 'visions' since he was a small child, but nothing like what had happened to him last year. The Occlumency, he was told, would help him to block out a lot of the distracting extra images and thoughts from his mind so that he could concentrate on everyday matters. His father could have taught him the technique, of course, but Harry and Connor both felt that a third party would be the best course of action.

Connor met with his tutor in the little schoolhouse for pre-Hogwarts kids that Connor's mum ran from a large barn behind their home. The classroom was cheerfully decorated, and gave them a quiet, relaxed atmosphere to work in.

"Very good," Clive Sharpe said as they concluded their session. He had been sitting across from Connor at a small table in the schoolroom, following his exercise through a light form of Legilimency. "Any headaches this time?"

"No," Connor said, pleased with his progress. "None."

Clive had been working with Connor three times a week since Connor had returned home from Hogwarts. He had made great progress. They got along well, due partly to the fact that Clive wasn't as old as Connor had expected him to be. Clive was in his mid-twenties and had auburn hair and bright blue eyes, with a boyish face that made him look much younger. Connor had been very surprised to find out that, not only had Albus Dumbledore himself recommended Mr Sharpe for the position as Connor's tutor, but that Clive was actually Dumbledore's great-great-great grandson.

"You've made a lot of progress, Connor," Clive said, looking proud. "I think you'll do fine once you get back to school. You haven't had any precognitive dreams at all since - when, last April? - and you've been successfully keeping distracting images from your mind on your own for the last three weeks. It'll probably be harder once you're surrounded by everyone at Hogwarts, I think, but you should be able to handle it."

"I'm a little nervous about it," Connor admitted. "Going back, I mean, without any more lessons."

"Well I've spoken to Professor Lupin," Clive assured him. "He said that he would take over your lessons – but only once a week, once classes start, just to keep you oriented and on track."

"Okay," Connor said. It made him feel a little better to know that he wouldn't be completely on his own if he started having trouble.

"And of course, you can owl me anytime," Clive smiled.

"You'll still come on Monday, right?" Connor asked. He had become attached to Clive over the summer, and would be sorry to say good-bye.

"And on Wednesday," he confirmed. "You still going to go get Zack tomorrow?"

"Yes," said Connor. "I can hardly wait!" They talked for a little while longer, and then Clive Flooed home and Connor went to bed, eager for the coming day.

"Connor!"

Connor woke to the sound of his mother's voice calling from the bottom of the stairs. With a groan, he pulled his pillow over his head and tried to block out his mother and the sunlight streaming into his room. He had stayed up late, reading a book that Clive had lent him, and had looked forward to having a lie-in since he didn't have to go into work with his father for once. But it sounded as though his mother had other plans.

"Connor!"

This time the voice was much closer, and it wasn't his mother's. Connor sat up in bed and stared blearily at the doorway to his room, where Rachel was standing, grinning broadly, with their friend Quentin right behind her. Quentin looked like he had grown a couple of inches over the summer, and didn't even have to stand on tiptoe to see over Rachel's head.

"What are you guys doing here?" he asked, grinning back. He stretched and went to stand up, only to smack the top of his head on the bunk. He'd forgotten that his parent had added it the day before to accommodate one of his friends. Holding back the curse that had risen to his lips, and rubbed his sore head, smiling to see Quentin for the first time in several weeks.

"I couldn't take it anymore, and left a bit early," Quentin grinned. "Vanessa sends her love."

"Yeah, right!" Connor said. Vanessa was Quentin's sister, and she and Connor had disliked for each other ever since he had gotten her into trouble the previous year.

"What are you still doing in bed?" Rachel asked, coming in to sit on the extra bed against the wall. Quentin dropped a rucksack on the floor and sat beside Rachel.

"Well I _was_ hoping to have a lie-in," Connor said. "But now that you're here, I guess I'll get up."

"Connor," Rachel said with exasperation. "It's ten-thirty. You're supposed to be leaving to get Zack in a half and hour."

Connor jumped back to his feet, and just missed hitting his head again. "What!" he exclaimed. He picked up the clock that he must have knocked over at some point and stared at it in disbelief. "I've got to get dressed!"

He rummaged in his closet for something to wear, and remembered that Zack's parents were both wealthy and very...proper people. He decided against robes, and chose a pair of casual Muggle trousers and a collared Muggle shirt. He scurried off to the bathroom to wash his face and change. By the time he emerged, Dobby had brought up Quentin's trunk and slid it under the extra bed, and Rachel was sprawled on Connor's bed, talking animatedly about the work she had done over the summer. They both stopped talking and looked up when Connor returned.

"So can we all go to get Zack?" Rachel asked as Connor sat next to her to put on his shoes and socks. "Quentin and I want to see his house."

"I don't see why not," Connor said with a careless shrug. "If seeing two people come out of their fireplace in a burst of green flames doesn't freak them out, I don't suppose seeing four will hurt them any."

"Mum says that it might come as a shock to Mr and Mrs Ellis," Rachel said.

"Yeah, my mum said the same thing last night when I asked if I could Floo them to see if it was hooked up to their house yet," Connor said. "I guess seeing a person's head in the fire when you've never seen it before could be a bit strange."

"Connor!" Ginny's voice carried up the stairs again. "Are you up yet? You've got to pick up Zack in five minutes! You don't want to be late!"

"I'm coming!" he called down. His friends followed him down the stairs.

In the living room, Connor's father was waiting for him, wearing Muggle clothes similar to his own. Adam sat in a deep chair with Snowball in his lap, and his other two normal-sized (and normal-coloured) Puffskeins on the arm of the chair.

"What in the name of Godric Gryffindor is that thing?" Quentin asked with apprehension.

"It's a freak of nature," Connor said. The puffy white ball emitted a low growl.

"Are you all coming?" Harry asked, intervening before his children could start an argument.

"If it's okay," Connor said. "They aren't expecting all of us."

"Yes, it's fine," Harry said. "It's just about time. Connor will go through first. Once all of you are through, I'll Apparate and meet you there. The address is 'Ellis residence, Hampstead,'" he said, then offered a small china bowl full of powder.

Connor stepped into the cold grate, and threw down a pinch of the Floo powder. "Ellis residence, Hampstead!" he called out, and the living room spun out of sight.

Connor pulled his elbows in tight and closed his eyes He stayed as still as possible, because he the less he moved, the less mess the soot would make, and he wanted to look tidy for Zack's parents. When he felt himself slow to a stop, he opened his to see a blackened brick wall in front of him. Momentarily puzzled, he realized that the Ellis household must have a much smaller fireplace than Wizarding houses. He crouched down obligingly and saw Zack smiling back at him, offering his hand to help him out of the grate.

"Hey, Connor! Sorry, I forgot to warn you about the fireplace," Zack said cheerfully.

Connor grabbed Zack's hand with a grin and stepped out of the way just as there was another _whoosh_ of flames. Quentin stood there for a moment with only his legs visible before realizing the problem and bending to escape the small fireplace.

"Quint!" Zack exclaimed.

A moment later, Rachel appeared and didn't seem to have any such confusion at finding herself in the enclosed area of the chimney. She bent immediately as if she had used this Floo a hundred times before, and stepped out gracefully.

Connor looked around to see Zack's parents a few feet away, smiling somewhat stiffly and looking slightly stunned.

"Hello, Mrs Ellis," Quentin said politely. "Mr Ellis. I would shake your hand, but as you can see, Floo travel isn't exactly the tidiest mode of transportation."

Connor wanted to roll his eyes at the formal greeting. Zack had told him last year that he thought Quentin had received a formal upbringing (much like Zack himself had received) and from this smooth little speech, Connor suspected that it was true.

"It's nice to see you all again," Mrs Ellis said, starting to come back to herself after the apparent shock of seeing three children emerge out of her fireplace in an eruption of green flames. "Zack has been looking forward to seeing his friends again."

"Is your trunk all packed?" Mr Ellis asked Zack. "Where's Godric?"

"I sent him to Connor's house a few minutes ago. I didn't think an owl would do will in the Floo." Zack grinned. He was obviously enjoying his parents' reaction to the Floo. It had actually been hooked up to the house once before, when he had come home for Christmas in his first year, but they had not been in the room at the time. He picked up Godric's empty cage, then started violently when there was a sharp _crack_ behind him. His mother screamed.

"I'm so sorry!" Connor's dad had Apparated directly into the room, and scared Mrs Ellis out of her wits. "It was thoughtless of me not to warn you that I wasn't coming by Floo."

Mrs Ellis had a hand over her heart, but was waving away his apology at the same time. "No harm done," she said a bit breathlessly. She turned to her husband. "William, make sure that Zack has the money he needs for his school things."

"You have a lovely home, Mrs Ellis," Quentin said politely, looking around with interest, while Zack double-checked his trunk.

"Thank you, dear," Mrs Ellis smiled, obviously pleased with Quentin's manners.

Connor wanted to roll his eyes again, but upon closer inspection had to admit that Quentin was right. What he could see of the house was much more reserved than he was used to, yet it was also warm and welcoming. There was a distinct lack of the clutter that his family seemed to generate, and everything smelled more of lemon polish than of ginger cookies, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Somehow, Connor had expected the Ellis home to be and uninviting, but it wasn't like that at all.

"Zack," Rachel said, scrutinizing him, "what happened to your hair?"

"Oh." Zack grimaced as he ruffled it with his fingers. "Mum didn't like it long, and had it cut. Looks like I'm not the only one, though." He pointed at Connor.

Connor grinned, and in a quiet voice, while his parents were distracted by his dad, said, "I'm going to see about getting some more of that stuff you used on me last year, to grow it out again."

Rachel grinned, and Quentin just shook his head. Quentin quite liked his own short hair, and couldn't see why Zack would want to be bothered with having to tie his hair back all the time.

Once everything had been collected, and goodbyes were said, Harry magically expanded the fireplace to make it more accommodating. The children Flooed back to Potter Headquarters one at a time, finally leaving just Connor, Zack and the adults. Harry stepped forward to shake the Ellis' hands once more.

"Thanks for lending us your son for the rest of the summer. We'll take good care of him," Harry said. "The Floo will stay connected to your home until September first, so that Zack can come home or contact you at any time before school starts. We'll make sure he's got everything he needs for school."

Zack's parents were staring disconcertedly at their newly enlarged fireplace, but turned to smile politely at Harry.Harry told Zack to leave his trunk; Harry would bring it with him so that they needn't be crowded in the Floo. Zack hugged his parents once more, and Connor grinned when he noticed that Mr and Mrs Ellis each slipped Zack some extra money when the other wasn't looking. A few minutes later, the four Gryffindors were back in Connor's living room, waiting for Ivy to arrive. Harry stayed behind to return the Ellis's fireplace to normal, and then Apparated home with a crack.

"Harry!" Ginny called from the kitchen the moment her husband returned. "There's an owl here for you from Hogwarts, marked urgent. It won't give me the letter, you'll have to do it." Harry strode into the kitchen.

Connor and his friends looked at each other curiously, and moved as a unit to the doorway to the kitchen. Harry relieved the stubborn owl of its letter and tried to send it away with an owl treat, but it remained. Clearly the sender required an answer.

Harry broke the official Hogwarts seal and slipped the thick, creamy parchment from the envelope. He stood reading silently to himself, while his audience waited. Then they jumped when Harry suddenly exclaimed, "I don't believe it!"

Exactly what he didn't believe the children didn't find out just then, because the Floo behind them had just roared to life, and Ivy stepped out with hardly any soot at all on her robes. Connor turned to grin at her and made a mental note to ask how she managed to Floo so neatly. A loud pop beside the fireplace announced the arrival of Ivy's father and her trunk.

"Ivy!" Zack said.

"Hi guys!" She grinned back. "Everyone here, then?"

Ivy was a bit taller and thinner since the last time they had seen her, and her round face was a little leaner. Her skin was nicely browned from a summer spent outdoors, and her hair had pale highlights throughout. It made her look very sun kissed and pretty.

"You look great!" Rachel enthused, hugging her in greeting. "How did you get so tan?"

"Just the usual," Ivy shrugged. "I got to spend a lot of time on my broom, and I worked out in the gardens most days."

"A great help to us, is our Ivy," her father said proudly, setting her trunk down on the floor. "Are your parents here, Connor?"

"Sure, Mr Longbottom," Connor said. "They're in the kitchen." Connor thought it odd that his parent were so distracted by the letter his dad had received that they had completely missed (or ignored) someone arriving by Floo _and_ Apparition. He turned to lead Ivy's dad in to see his parents and heard his father talking.

"What if they're treating him like they treated me? Dudley is just like his narrow minded, over-blown, nasty, intolerant father!" Harry was saying, pacing agitatedly around the room, and clenching the letter in his hand. "He even still lives in that same house! They could have him locked up under the stairs, or..."

"Harry," Ginny said, placing a calming hand on his arm.

"Mum, Dad," Connor interrupted in the silence that followed his father's invective. "The Longbottoms are here.

"Everything all right, Harry?" Ivy's father came into the room looking concerned.

"Hello, Neville," Harry said, shaking hands with the other man in spite of his vexation. "I'm sorry, I've just gotten some disturbing news. I have to leave almost immediately."

"To Hogwarts?" Connor asked.

"No," Harry answered, suddenly sounding weary. "I have to go and speak with my cousin."

Connor was stunned into speechlessness. He knew, of course, and that his father had a cousin, and even an aunt and an uncle somewhere, but they never spoke of them. Ever. It was understood that they didn't want contact with the Potters and the Potters didn't want contact with the Dursleys. Not so much as a Christmas card had been exchanged between them as far as Connor knew, since his father had come of age.

"Did you want me to come along?" Neville asked, the steel in his voice belying his pleasant expression. He knew, from long talks in the past, how his Muggle relatives had treated Harry. "For, er, _moral_ support?"

"Thanks Neville, but no," Harry declined, tossing the crumpled letter onto the table. "I think I can handle the likes of Dudley Dursley on my own." He grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill from a nearby drawer, and scribbled a note onto it, then sent the waiting owl back to Hogwarts with his answer.

Mr Longbottom nodded and said, "No doubt." There was a tiny, wicked smile that appeared on his face for a moment, probably from imagining how Harry might 'handle' his cousin if the situation called for it.

"I need to go," Harry said, stepping forward to kiss his wife firmly on the mouth. "I'll try to be home by tonight."

Ginny nodded, and a moment later, Harry had Disapparated. Ginny heaved a sigh and sat down in a kitchen chair heavily.

"Will he be all right?" Mr Longbottom asked her.

"I hope so," she said.

"What does the letter say, Mum?" Connor asked.

"It seems that your father's cousin has a son that will be attending Hogwarts this year," Ginny said, massaging the bridge of her nose with one hand, where a headache was beginning to form. "He's gone to act as a Muggle/Wizard liaison and to explain things to them."

"If Dad grew up with his cousin, wouldn't he already know about wizards and magic?" Connor asked. All of his friends were looking at them curiously.

"Not really," Ginny said. "The Dursleys have always been afraid of magic, and have done their best to avoid it and anyone associated with it at all costs."

"I had one of those liaison people come to my house when I first go my letter," Zack said. "She explained everything to us and showed us how to get to Diagon Alley and Gringotts and all of that stuff."

"Yes, well, the Dursleys would certainly never have allowed anything like that," Ginny said dryly. "Then or now."

"And now they have a magical son," Neville concluded. "How's that for Karma?"

Ginny chuckled. "Well there's nothing we can do about this now," she said decisively. "Harry will do what he thinks is best, and we'll deal with anything else that comes from it when we get there. Who wants lunch?"

Mr Longbottom declined the offer of a meal and hugged his daughter goodbye. With one last admonishment to Ginny to call him if she needed any help, he Disapparated, leaving the children to their meal. Lucy and Ian, Connor's twin sister and brother, appeared from upstairs, and eagerly greeted Connor's friends.

After levitating the soup and sandwiches that Dobby had prepared to the table, Ginny retired to her 'quiet room' for some peace.

The moment she'd left, Rachel snatched up the letter that had been left behind and began to read aloud.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I am writing to you in my capacity as Headmistress of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry to ask a favour of you. Today I received an owl with an acceptance letter from a first year student that may interest you, and may require your attention. Mr. Rupert Dursley will be attending Hogwarts this year, and it has been requested, by way of personal missive from the boy's father, Mr. Dudley Dursley, that you pay him a visit at his place of residence. The letter that accompanied Rupert's acceptance letter asks that you, and I quote, "_come here and put my boy right_." Mr. Dursley remains in his boyhood residence at Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey._

_I can only assume from his colourful and expressive letter that Mr. Dursley is less than pleased with his son's decision to attend Hogwarts. Mr. Dursley's objections notwithstanding, his plea for your personal attention to this matter was accompanied by an acceptance to our invitation for his son to attend. Rupert will be enrolled as a student for the coming term, and will need to be prepared._

_I understand the difficult position this may put you in, and I apologize most sincerely. I know that you severed ties with your relatives many years ago, but I felt that under the circumstances, you would be the best person to help to see them through this. I have not forgotten my own personal encounters with your aunt and uncle from your youth, and feel that member of the magical community (aside from yourself) that may try to contact them might be met with undue aggression. _

_Please contact me with your answer as soon as possible, as there is only a week to go until term begins._

_Respectfully, _

_Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Rachel dropped the letter back onto the table.

"Did Dad really go to see the Dursleys?" Ian asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

Connor nodded.

"Wow," Zack said. "It sounds like Professor McGonagall really hates this Dursley guy. Do you really think that he'll cause your dad problems?"

"What does he mean, 'put my boy right'?" Quentin asked indignantly.

"I don't know," Connor said. "But I'm sure my Dad can sort it out. If they're mistreating- what was his name again? Oh yeah, Rupert. If they're mistreating Rupert, my dad will take care of it; he won't let anyone keep a magical kid from attending Hogwarts if he wants to. His aunt and uncle tried to keep him from going when he got the letter, and that obviously didn't work."

Rachel nodded and said thoughtfully, "I suppose this Rupert must be miserable living with people who hate magic. It'll be good for him to get away from there and to a school with more people like him."

"What do you think he's like?" Ian asked. "I mean, he'll be, like, our cousin, won't he?"

"Dad's first cousin once removed. That would make him...I'm not sure what that makes him to us. Second cousins, maybe," Lucy answered with a shrug. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."

"So," Ivy said, changing the subject to something more cheerful. "What shall we do with the rest of our day?"

"Fly!" Zack said emphatically. "I haven't been on a broomstick all summer! My parents pretty much kept an eye on me all summer, so I couldn't get away. London's not exactly the ideal spot for flying about. Plus my mum almost fainted when she saw the pictures of us up in the air."

"I guess that would be quite a shock for her if she'd never seen it before," Rachel agreed with a grin. "I'd love to actually ride a broom instead of helping to make them."

"I can get behind that idea," Connor said.

"Me too," Quentin agreed.

Ginny appeared as the kids were getting their broomsticks out and gave permission for Lucy and Ian to join them. Adam, it seemed, had gone to Aunt Hermione's for the day to play with their daughter, Prue. Without him to worry about, they could play a makeshift game of Quidditch, even if they didn't have any Bludgers or a Snitch. They quickly improvised teams, and were in the air in no time, enjoying the first day of their week together. By the time they landed three hours later, wind-swept and happy, all of them had red noses from being out in the sun too long.

Everyone was surprised to find that Connor's dad was home when they got inside, and was casually eating biscuits and milk at the table with Adam and his overly large Puffskein. Connor approached the table to snag a biscuit, but Snowball's deep rumbling growl froze him in mid-grab. He hastily stumbled backward, glaring at Adam.

"Dad," Connor complained in something very close to a whine, "Could you _please_ tell Adam to keep that _thing_ off the table?"

"Er, what is that?" Zack asked with a cautious tone. Whatever it was had just been growling disturbingly.

"Hi Zack!" Adam said excitedly when he spotted the other boy. Zack had become acquainted with Adam the previous Christmas, when he had been a guest at the Potters' for the holidays. "Don't you remember Snowball? This is Snowball! I got him for Christmas when you were here last time! He's my favourite now, but he doesn't like Connor at all. He actually ate one of Connor's socks last month; it was great! So you're here for the rest of the summer? Maybe we can play some games while you're here!"

Connor knew that Zack would not have forgotten the constant chatter that Adam was capable of maintaining for several minutes without seeming to take a breath.

"Are Puffskeins supposed to get this large?" Zack asked, eying the white ball of fur as though looking for signs of teeth.

"Nope!" Adam said proudly. "I reckon I've got the biggest one in the whole world!"

"Why hasn't someone from the Department of...?"Quentin began.

"They did," Harry interrupted. "But Snowball ate them."

Rachel snorted as Zack backed away, and Quentin laughed at the look of horror on his face. Ivy looked mildly fascinated by the mutant fur ball, but didn't seem inclined to get any closer to it.

"That's just disturbing," Quentin announced, earning a chuckle from Connor's dad.

"You have no idea," Harry said, amused. "Adam, take Snowball off the table now."

Adam adopted a sulky pout, but obeyed, climbing the stairs to his room with his pet in his arms.

"Why don't you all sit down for a minute?" Harry said to the group. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

He waved his hand, and the chairs around the table slid out. The kids all sat, saying nothing about the display of wandless magic they were witnessing. He gestured again toward the cabinet, which flew open to emit several glasses, which landed on the table. He poured them all a glass of milk from the bottle on the table, and offered them all some biscuits before he got to the point.

"Tomorrow," he said when they were all settled, "I'm going to be collecting my cousin's son, Rupert, who will be attending Hogwarts this year as a first year."

"So your cousin is letting him go?" Rachel asked.

Harry looked at her strangely, and Connor admitted, "We kind of read your letter."

Harry merely sighed and nodded. "Rupert will be staying here for the remainder of the summer, and your mother and I will be seeing that he gets all of his school supplies and makes it onto the train. That's where all of you come in."

"All of us?" Connor asked quizzically.

"He wants us to be nice to him," Rachel said, as if it were obvious. "The poor kid is leaving home for a completely new place, with people he doesn't know. You want us to help him adjust, don't you, Uncle Harry?"

Harry nodded at his niece and muttered quietly, "I'd be happy if you didn't just kill him."

"Pardon?" Quentin asked, sure he had heard wrong.

"Listen," Harry said, appealing to the kids before him. He stood between Lucy and Ian's chairs and gathered his thoughts for a moment. "Rupert has lived a pretty privileged life up until now, and he's being a bit difficult. His father and mother are one hundred percent against Rupert attending Hogwarts, but reluctantly gave in when I said that I would take over as his legal guardian within the magical community. Rupert seems to be set upon learning magic, and who can blame him? But his father and his grandparents have a very strong aversion to anything magical and have done their best to discourage him. I just want you all to keep this in mind when he arrives tomorrow, and try to be tolerant of him if he seems a little bad-mannered or ill-tempered."

"Okay, Dad," Lucy agreed immediately, looking up at him.

"Thank you," Harry said, reaching down and smoothing down her unruly hair black affectionately. "I'm sure that things will be much more agreeable when Rupert settles in and finds out more about us. Just give him a chance, okay?"

Connor and his friends nodded in agreement, all of them thinking that Rupert would probably need a friend if his family were being so awful to him.

Conversation at dinner that night revolved around some of the things that they might share with Rupert about the magical world that would help to make him more comfortable. Harry and Ginny kept passing worried glances at each other as they ate, but the children seemed to be excited over the prospect of initiating a Muggle-born into the family and into their lives. Zack, being Muggle-born himself, regaled them with stories of his first experiences with magic until it was time to clear up.

The kids were excused to the living room to entertain themselves, and they settled around the low table in the centre of the room to catch up on each other's news.

"Our Uncle Charlie's daughter Maggie, and Uncle George's son Patrick will both be starting Hogwarts this year, too," Rachel told the others as she pulled out several decks Exploding Snap cards. "Maybe they'll get to be friends with Rupert."

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly. Zack related the story of how he had used the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes Bearding Balm he'd gotten last year, and arrived at breakfast one morning with hair all over his face, including his lips and eyelids. His mother had screamed herself hoarse, and his father had roared with laughter once he found out that the sudden hair growth was easily washed away. Quentin shared how he had used his Belching Bubbles to great effect every time his parents left him alone with his disagreeable sister, Vanessa. Ivy confessed that she had 'accidentally' planted some Poultry Pellets in one of her parent's greenhouses, and when her mother had gone out to water, fully-grown live chickens had erupted from the earth and scattered in all directions.

"Oooh!" Rachel said appreciatively at Ivy's description of the chaos that ensued. "You've got to tell that one to Fred and George; they'll love it!"

"Speaking of Poultry Pellets," Connor said. "Professor Lupin's come around a few times this summer, and keeps trying to trick me in to admitting we were the ones who made everyone turn into animals and change colours last April Fool's."

"But McGonagall is still sure it was the Slytherins," Rachel added. "Just be careful, because Lupin's sneaky, and he'll slip a comment into the middle of a conversation in the hopes of slipping you up."

Mrs Potter came to chase the children to bed at eleven, and then, at midnight, had to threaten the boys in Connor's room with a Silencing Charm. Connor had a final laugh over Quentin's assertion that he had been unable to sleep his first week home from Hogwarts, because it was too quiet without Connor's snoring. They finally turned out the light, and Connor sleepily went over his mental checklist, and cleared his mind of all thought as Clive had taught him to do. He was asleep in minutes, with a smile on his face; it was good to be with his friends again.

All of the children slept late the next day, and Connor's dad had already left by the time they had woken up. His mum had set Dobby to work feeding everyone while she tackled the job of rearranging bedrooms to accommodate another child, and making sure that everyone had their personal belongings in the right place.

The kids all went out into the garden to stay out of the way. At one point they were interrupted when Ginny appeared in the doorway of the house and called out.

"Ian, I'm trying to arrange sleeping space. Would you be willing to share your room with Rupert when he gets here?"

Ian looked as though he wanted to object, but Connor nudged him hard with an elbow, reminding him that they had promised their father to be nice. "I suppose," he answered dutifully.

Not wanting to be underfoot inside, the kids stayed in the garden and played. They were all laughing by the time they were called inside for lunch, and paused when they saw that the Floo was roaring to life. A large figure was spinning into view, and they could hear a faint shouting that got closer as they watched. A loud pop rent the air, and Harry appeared beside the Floo, dropping a large trunk just in time to catch a soot-covered boy as he tumbled out of the fireplace.

"Bloody hell!" croaked the new arrival, which could only be Rupert. He coughed has he inhaled more ash. His tiny, close-set eyes were watering to relieve themselves of debris, and what they could see of his face through the grime was beet red. Connor supposed that his hair would be blonde once it was clean, but what had everyone staring at him with their mouths hanging open was the boy's size.

Connor was sure he'd never seen a boy as fat as the one standing before him, and thought it was no wonder he was covered in soot. He must have scraped his body across the inside of every Floo that he had spun past on his way here! Remembering his manners, and his parent's wishes, Connor stepped forward.

"Hello," he said in a friendly tone, while Quentin tried to stifle his snickering behind him.

Rupert really did look ridiculous covered in black soot from head to toe, but he obviously didn't see the humour of it. He was scowling deeply, and tried in vain to straighten his rumpled clothes and look dignified.

"I suppose this is someone's idea of a joke?" the boy demanded angrily. "What sort of rubbish way is that to travel? I was almost killed!"

"I'm sorry, Rupert," Harry said with a lopsided smile. "You'll get used to it eventually."

"I see _you_ didn't have to travel in some disgustingly dirty fireplace," came the peevish reply. "Nor get a speck of dirt on you. Why couldn't I have travelled the way you did?"

No one was laughing now.

"Because," Harry explained patiently, "Apparating requires a license, just like driving a car, and you won't be allowed to do it until you're of age. That won't be until you're seventeen years old, so until then, you'll have to rely on more mundane forms of travel."

Rupert was not impressed to hear this. "So I'll have to spend the next six or seven years arriving everywhere I go a filthy mess?"

"No," Harry explained again, holding his expression in as pleasant countenance as he could. He withdrew his wand and used it to remove as much of the soot stuck to Rupert as he could without an outright scouring charm. "Floo travel can be messy, but once you get the hang of it, it won't be this bad. There are also other forms of travel, and places that cannot be accessed by Floo. You'll be taking the train to Hogwarts, just like I told you and your father earlier."

"Well, this is just positively stupid," Rupert announced petulantly. "And who are all of these people?"

"Rupert, I would like you to meet my son, Connor." Harry pointed to Connor, who politely said hello again. "And my daughter, Lucy." She stepped forward, brown eyes still shocked by this strange boys' behaviour. "Her twin brother, Ian, and the youngest, Adam." Ian ran a hand through his mop of red hair, and waved half-heartedly. Adam hid behind Zack and looked out at Rupert from behind his legs.

"And who are all the others?" Rupert demanded, not returning anyone's greetings by the slightest acknowledgement at all. "Do you run a hostel or something?"

"These are Connor's friends from school, who arrived yesterday. They will be our guests for the rest of the summer. This is Quentin Malfoy, Zack Ellis, Ivy Longbottom, and Rachel Weasley, my niece." Harry introduced the other kids politely, and each one of them said hello in turn.

"Oh," Rupert said, ignoring them all out of hand. "And where is my room going to be?"

"You'll be sharing a room with Ian," Ginny answered from the doorway. "Would you like it if we took your bags up for you so that you could have some lunch with the others, or would you like to wash up and have a rest?"

Connor could tell by the overly pleasant tone of voice his mother used that she was trying hard to rein in her temper. No doubt that she had heard Rupert's entrance and subsequent rudeness, but was determined to try to keep their first meeting as polite as possible.

"Who are you, then?" Rupert demanded. "And why do I have to share a room?"

Ginny's smile slipped a notch, but she remained silent. Connor thought that maybe she didn't answer him because she was afraid she would shout at him if she tried.

"She," Harry answered through gritted teeth, "is my wife, Ginny. You may call her Mrs Potter. You will share a room, because all of the others are occupied at the moment."

Rupert seemed to sense that Harry's good will was at the end of its tether, because he simply nodded. "I'd like to wash up and have some lunch, I think."

"All right," Ginny said. "Right this way."

She drew her wand, and levitated Rupert's trunk before her, and mounted the stairs, leaving the newest guest to follow behind her.


	2. Chapter Two Realizations

**Chapter Two – Realizations**

_There are two types of people--those who come into a room and say, "Well, here I am!" and those who come in and say, "Ah, there you are." --Frederick L. Collins_

Rupert emerged from Ian's room twenty minutes later, looking freshly scrubbed and wearing what Zack recognized as a designer tracksuit. Zack wondered wildly what in the name of Merlin this boy needed with a tracksuit, when it was obvious that exercise was a foreign concept to him. He kept his thoughts to himself, however, and politely helped Ivy with her chair as they sat down to lunch.

Nobody really thought twice about it when Dobby appeared, levitating a platter of sandwiches onto the table, until Rupert spotted him. Not sure if the bat-eared creature at the other end of the table tended to attack when provoked, Rupert leaned toward Quentin, who was seated to his left.

"What is that?" he asked quietly.

"What is what?" Quentin replied, then followed Rupert's gaze across the table. "Oh, that's just a house elf. They're like servants, usually bound to one family and one house for their whole lives. Not Dobby, though; he's employed by the Potters."

Quentin was pleased to have done some small part to help educate this new boy, and perhaps put him in a better frame of mind. He had behaved abominably since his arrival, though Quentin reasoned that such a rough Floo experience was bound to put anyone out of sorts.

"It's a servant?" Rupert perked up at these words.

"Yes," Quentin said uneasily. He didn't like the glint in the other boy's eye all of a sudden. "_He_ is."

Rupert nodded absently, and Quentin turned his attention away from the other boy, and concentrated on the conversation going on around the table. Ivy was talking to Connor's dad about her broom. It had been pulling downward a bit ever since a Bludger had hit it last year.

"I'll have a look at it," Harry said. "And give it a tune-up if you want."

"That would be great!" Ivy enthused. Harry's company, Dog Star Brooms, made her Sirius Elite broomstick. That broomstick was her pride and joy. She had spent all of last summer saving up to purchase it, and thought it was worth every minute of work she'd done to earn it.

"It's no problem," he assured her. "A simple Bludger hit really shouldn't have damaged it that much. I'd like to see if it's a design flaw, a faulty charm, or just a fluke. We might be able to tweak it a little bit, as well, to better suit your frame."

"Could you please have a look at my broom as well, Mr Potter?" Quentin asked. "Just to make sure it's in top shape for this season?"

"You're flying a _Windblazer_, aren't you? Which model?" Harry asked with interest.

"A 5000, sir." Quentin answered. "My, er, my father didn't want to..."

"Buy a broom built by me?" Harry grinned when Quentin blushed and nodded. There was no sting to his words; he understood that Draco Malfoy would rather eat flobberworms than admit that _Dog Star_ made the best brooms anywhere. "I'd actually like to have a go on it, if you don't mind; see how it compares."

"More juice," Rupert said at his end of the table, when Dobby passed near him.

Dobby trembled slightly, but nodded and turned to summon the flagon of pumpkin juice from the counter. He filled Rupert's glass, and backed away almost timidly.

"Rupert," Harry said calmly. "This is Dobby. He works for us, helping with various chores. And," he added with a wink to the elf, "he bakes the best cinnamon bread I've ever tasted."

Dobby beamed at Harry and said politely to Rupert, "I is pleased to meet you."

"You _is_?" Rupert smiled nastily.

"Of course, young master," Dobby answered uncertainly.

"Well that's something, then." Rupert answered, and looked away from Dobby dismissively to drink from his newly refilled glass. "What is it you were saying? You build _brooms_?"

"That's right." Harry said evenly. He cast an apologetic look to Dobby, and nodded to him in a signal that meant that they could look after themselves now.

"What on earth for?" Rupert asked incredulously. "My father told me that you probably did something abnormal or criminal to support your family, but making _brooms_? How do you afford to live like this from making brooms?"

All of the children at the table were staring at Rupert open-mouthed. Ian looked angry, and leaned over and whispered something in Adam's ear. Adam nodded, and Ian looked somewhat relieved.

"I don't think that Rupert understands," Ginny said to the others after a pause. "Your father is mistaken," she said to Rupert. "Mr Potter and my bother, Ron, build _racing_ brooms; they're meant to be _flown_."

"And they're the best brooms in the world," Lucy said aggressively. It was very odd for Lucy to be that forceful, especially around strangers, but Rupert seemed to have rubbed her the wrong way. "There's nothing criminal or abnormal about it. Professional Quidditch players wait on the list for months just to get their hands on a broom made by my father!"

The other kids were nodding in agreement, but Rupert didn't look the least bit impressed. "You're telling me that witches really do ride broomsticks?"

"And Wizards," Quentin answered.

"And what is quizzage?" Rupert asked.

"_Quidditch_ is a Wizarding sport," Zack answered him. "It's brilliant! It's played in the air on broomsticks, and there are three types of balls, and seven players to a team, and the team that catches...."

"A sport played in the air?" Rupert interrupted. "Sounds like a lot of rubbish, if you ask me. I don't like sports, much."

"Well duh," Ian said under his breath.

Rachel and Connor tried hard not to laugh, and Quentin got his laughter under control pretty quickly. Ivy grinned and winked at Ian, and Adam still looked angry.

"I think that you might change your mind when you actually see it played," Zack told Rupert, deeply ingrained manners insisting that he try his best to be kind. "It's really very exciting. Before I found out I was a Wizard, I didn't really like sports much, either, except for a bit of cricket at school, but Quidditch is different from anything you've ever seen before."

Rupert looked sceptical still, but said nothing, except that he was tired and wanted to lie down. He left the table without asking to be excused, and thumped up the stairs and into Ian's room, where he closed the door.

"I hate him," Adam said at once.

"Me too," Ian agreed. "Why does he have to stay here all week? Can't we send him back home until it's time to take him to the train?"

"Because it was part of the arrangement I made with his father," Harry answered, sounding sorry that he'd made any such deal.

"His father probably just wanted to get rid of him," Lucy said acidly. "Imagine saying that he thought you were a criminal! And did you see how he treated Dobby? He's acted like a prat since he got here!"

"He's only been here for a little over an hour." Ginny said.

"That leaves one hundred and ninety one hours left until the train leaves." Rachel said gloomily. "Maybe we could just Stupefy him, and wake him up in time to go and get our school things."

"We are not going to stun any of our guests," Ginny said firmly. "You've all said that you were going to try to be nice to him. I know he's been a little abrasive since he got here, but he's probably just testing his boundaries and trying to figure everything out. Besides, I've talked to Remus, and he said that your booklists should be here on Monday, so we can plan on going to Diagon Alley then. That will give you all something to look forward to."

"That should be fun," Connor said to his friends.

"I'll Floo all the Weasleys later and see if we can't just get everyone's shopping done on the same day. Maggie, Patrick and Rupert will all need everything from the ground up, so to speak, so it would make sense to split up into groups to get everything done faster." Harry said.

"That sounds like a good plan," Ginny said. When she looked at everyone's gloomy faces, she said, "It won't be so bad, you'll see."

"Well I'm not sharing a room with him," Ian said defiantly. "I'll stay in Adam's room until he leaves. Then he'll have his own room, just like he wanted, and we'll both be happy."

"You can have my room," Lucy offered. "I'm going to Floo Aunt Hermione and see if I can stay over there with Gwen."

"Look," Harry said at last, trying to ward off the mutiny he smelled brewing over Rupert. "It's Saturday. Why don't we all get our brooms and go outside for a bit. That way I'll be able to check out everyone's brooms, and see what needs to be done to any of them."

"That's a good idea," Ginny agreed. "That way we won't disturb Rupert while he's resting, either, and maybe when he's more refreshed, he'll have a whole new outlook on things."

Connor snorted, but otherwise kept his opinion on that to himself. If they were going to be forced to endure Rupert's presence for the entire week, then he wanted to spend as much time alone with is friends as he could. However, he thought to himself, it shouldn't be too hard to ditch him for a couple of hours each day while he and his friends explored the countryside. There was a bit of a stream not too far away where they could swim, or at least play in the water, and with any luck, Rupert wouldn't want to walk that far. He seemed to be the sort who didn't like to do things for himself if he could help it.

Everyone carried their dishes to the sink, and Ginny set them to washing themselves. They all collected their brooms as quietly as possible; they didn't want Rupert coming out and demanding to join them. Harry brought Adam and Ian's up out of his workshop, and fastened the tether that they used to keep Adam from injury should he fall off. He complained loudly that he was too old to be tied to his broom like a baby, but quickly gave in after a stern look from his mother.

It didn't matter that they had spent half of yesterday in the air; this was heaven! Quentin was thrilled when Ginny offered to share some tips from her brief time as a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. She went through some drills with him and Connor, and told them which weak spots that they needed to look out for. Ivy and Zack listened attentively, as did Lucy and Ian, who decided to play opposite them when an old Quaffle was brought out. Harry worked with Adam a little way apart from the others, schooling him on controlling his speed and stopping without being thrown (a problem the boy still suffered from). At one point, Connor flew past Ian's window to retrieve an overthrown Quaffle, and saw Rupert standing there, watching them, but when he turned around, the window was empty.

Connor watched with a smile as his father rode each of his friends' brooms around, trying different manoeuvres on them. He was especially rigorous with Quentin's broom, and put it through a series of stunts that had the children all cheering by the time he was satisfied.

Tired from a day of flying, everyone finally returned to the house when Ginny insisted that dinner needed to be started on. Lucy went to Floo her cousin Gwen, to try to wangle an invitation to spend the night, and Adam and Ian went in search of a before-dinner snack. Harry invited the others down to the basement workshop so that he could look their brooms over, now that he had seen them in action. This was a rare treat, as Harry was usually very firm on his rules of 'no kids in the workshop unless they're working.' He considered the room his private get-away, and only his best friend Ron could enter it whenever he fancied.

Connor and Rachel sat in a battered old couch against the wall, while Zack, Ivy and Quentin got a miniature lesson in broom manufacturing. Their guests listened eagerly to every word his father had to say, Connor thought as he listened with half an ear. He had heard all of this and more; even before going to work everyday at _Dog Star'_s factory, and so he merely relaxed as he enjoyed his friend's reactions to learning how many charms actually went into each broom they built. Connor was looking forward to the day when he would be able to perform those charms himself. _Dog Star_'s custom line actually employed only three other Charms experts aside from his Dad and Uncle Ron, and not even those three knew all of the spells used. There were several charms on the custom brooms that were only known to the two co-founders of the company, so that if another manufacturer lured any of their spell-casters away, they wouldn't be able to divulge any big secrets.

Connor watched as Harry took Ivy's broom, and clamped it into a special vice so that he could examine it. He cast a long and complicated sounding spell over it, in a voice too soft to hear. The broomstick glowed a violet colour for a moment, and then the light seemed to soak into the wood, and then Harry touched the handle with the end of his wand in several different places, causing different colours of light to appear at the point where wand met broom. He seemed deep in thought for a moment, and then declared, "There's a weak stabilizing charm on this. I can have it fixed for you by tomorrow, I think. I'm also going to look up the broom's serial number and find out who did the charm work on it, to make sure that it isn't a consistent problem. I'll make a few other modifications as well for you, just for fun."

"Thank you, Mr Potter," Ivy said with an excited smile.

"Ivy'll probably end up with a broom as good as ours once he's done," Rachel murmured to Connor. "He won't be able to resist messing about with it."

Connor nodded in agreement as he watched his dad scribbled some notes on a piece of parchment and then stuck it to Ivy's broom handle. He put it on a rack against the wall, where he normally kept works in progress.

"Now for Zack's."

Harry examined Zack's broom, which was a modified Daytripper that had been a gift to the boy from the Potters last Christmas. It was still in perfect working order, and Zack didn't have any complaints with it at all; he didn't get to ride it as often as the others did. It still didn't stop Harry from scribbling some notes on another scrap of parchment and putting Zack's broom beside Ivy's. Connor knew that his father would find something that could be done to it if he thought about it long enough.

When he got to Quentin's broom, however, Harry grinned widely and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He only chuckled at Quentin's concerned looked, and clamped it into the special vice like he had the others.

They all expected him to start performing a diagnostic charm similar to the one he had done on Ivy's, but instead he put down his wand. He scribbled some things on another, bigger sheet of parchment, and then strode to the small fireplace against the wall. He threw in a pinch of glittering power and called out, "Ron!"

A moment later, and answering voice came through. "What's up, Harry?"

"I'm giving Connor's friends brooms a look-over."

"So?" Ron's head did not appear in the fire, and his voice was somewhat muffled, as though her was eating something.

"So, Ivy Longbottom's got a faulty charm on her _Elite_, and I've got Quentin's _Windblazer_ _5000_ in the clamp right now." Harry answered.

"A _Windblazer_?" Ron's head finally made an appearance. "And he's letting you near it?"

Quentin looked as though he wanted to rescue his broom and flee, but Connor only grinned. He wasn't too worried about anything happening to his friend's broom, and if it did, he knew that his dad would replace it.

"What come over and play?" Harry asked, waggling his eyebrows at Ron.

"Give me an hour," Ron said. "Don't start without me!"

His head withdrew from the flames, and the fire died out. Harry turned back to the group looking at him with mixed expressions on their faces and smiled. "Why don't you kids go see if Ginny and Dobby need any help getting dinner on the table?" he said. "I'll have these brooms back to you in no time, better than ever."

Quentin didn't look reassured. "Mr Potter? You're not going to do anything, er, _bad _to my broom are you?"

"Of course not!" Harry replied, still smiling a little too blandly. "We're just going to have a look at it. See what kind of charms old Witherspoon's got on this little beauty."

Connor knew that Brian Witherspoon of Blazer Brooms was the owner of _Dog Star_'s chief competitor, and that the two companies were constantly testing each other's newest inventions, looking for weaknesses to exploit. The _Windblazer_ had been the one broom that had given his father and Uncle Ron the most trouble in terms of charm breaking. It was also the only one in the past three years to even come close to beating out a _Dog Star_ broom in sales of mass produced broomsticks. It was a challenge that seemed to both infuriate and excite his Uncle Ron and his father, making them both act more like teenagers at times.

"Uncle Harry," Rachel said cautiously. "Didn't you and Dad buy five of these last year?" She gestured to the _Windblazer_ that was awaiting inspection. "I seem to remember Mum shouting something about spending good money on competitors broom just so you could see how hard it was to strip...."

"Don't be silly," Harry interrupted his niece hastily. He hadn't missed the stricken look on Quentin's face when he heard these words. "We'll be way more careful with this one. I swear that if anything happens to this broom, I will personally replace it with the broom of his choice."

Quentin looked slightly mollified by this, but only reluctantly climbed the steps with the others. He cast a last lingering look at his broom, with Connor's father standing in front of it, before Connor shunted him out of the door.

Dinner was no more comfortable than lunch had been, with Rupert in attendance. It became obvious at once that the boy was bored, and he complained loudly about the absence of a television or video games or a computer.

"Don't you have anything around here at all to _do_?" he asked. Harry ignored the fact that Rupert had just shoved his plate in Ginny's direction and grunted, "More chicken."

Connor watched his parents, amazed that they were not reprimanding Rupert for his poor manners, but could see that his mother was distinctly thin-lipped. His father's jaw was working slowly, though he hadn't put a bite of food in his mouth in the past few moments, and it was becoming quickly obvious to him that his parent's patience was wearing thin. He was about to say something to Rupert himself, when Ian spoke up.

"What is your problem?" Ian demanded loudly from the opposite end of the table.

"My problem is that there's nothing around here to do," Rupert answered back, turning red in the face.

"I'm not talking about that," Ian said. "You've been sitting here in _our_ house, at _our_ table, acting like you own the place. You haven't said 'please' or 'thank you' to anyone, and now you're moaning because you cant find a way to entertain yourself?"

"That's enough, Ian," Ginny said quietly. She didn't need to raise her voice, as her children all recognized the tone.

"If any of us acted that way, you'd...." Ian began hotly, only to be interrupted.

"Maybe," Zack said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, but looking at Ian. "He doesn't know any better. Maybe he never learned how to behave properly."

Connor looked at his friend in admiration for the subtle put-down. He was glad that someone had finally spoken out, and decided to add his own opinion into the mix.

"Zack's right," he said to Ian, talking as though Rupert weren't sitting right across from him. "If the Dursley's never taught him any manners, or how to be a proper guest, we can't really get mad at him for being beastly. It might not be his fault."

"I'm sure that my mother has a book on etiquette that she could send over for him to read," Rachel added, with a devilish gleam in her eye. "So that he won't embarrass himself again in the future with inappropriate conduct."

Connor snuck a look at his parents, who were both looking torn between amusement and disapproval. Ginny was still holding the plate that had been shoved at her as she bit her lower lip and waited to see what would happen next. Rupert was the colour of a beet now, and his small eyes were narrowed as he looked at them all. It looked to Connor as though the boy was unsure of what he should say or do now. He was clearly outraged at what they were saying about him, but loathed to admit that his behaviour had been anything short of perfect. Finally, he chose to go on the defence.

"Why should I be embarrassed?" he asked. "I'm the guest here. They should be doing everything they can to make me feel welcome and comfortable."

"And as a guest," Quentin answered first, speaking directly to Rupert. "You should be doing everything in your power to make it pleasant for them to do so. You are not the only guest here this week, and it is each of our responsibilities to make sure that we are not an undue burden on our hosts. I don't know what kind of upbringing you've had up until this point, but you're in a whole new world now. I confess that I don't know much about Muggles, but I am fairly certain that it is still proper to show gratitude for kindness. I, for one, respect the Potters very much, and would very much appreciate it if you could practice the common courtesy that they deserve while you are here."

Everyone was silent at this extraordinary lecture. Quentin had never so much as raised his voice, and even kept his tone pleasant, as if he were doing nothing more commonplace than discussing the weather. It was obvious that Quentin's privileged upbringing had been much more cultured than Rupert's had been, and that he might have been quoting at least part of that speech from a book very like the one Rachel had just offered. Connor felt that an adult really couldn't have said it any better, and hoped that Rupert would understand what was expected of him now.

Rupert opened his mouth as if to retort, but found no words to express whatever he was feeling. His face was still flushed, and his round jaw set as he tossed his napkin onto the table and marched from the room. They could hear him pounding up the stairs and then the slam of a door, and then silence.

Everyone looked at his vacant seat for a long moment, then at each other's surprised faces. It was Adam, who finally broke the silence.

"Mum," he said sweetly. "May I _please_ have some more potatoes?"

Ginny's lips twitched, as she set Rupert's plate aside and took Adam's plate. "Of course sweetheart," she answered.

"_Thank you_ very much!" Adam said promptly as she set his plate down in front of him again.

"You're welcome," Ginny said with a wink.

The rest of the meal continued on as though Rupert had never been present. Ron arrived toward the end of the meal, and joined them for dessert; bringing some much needed levity to the group. He looked puzzled when everyone giggled when he said a fervent, "Thank you!" to Ginny for the large slab of cake, but didn't mention their odd behaviour.

Harry and Ron disappeared down into the basement with a look of anticipation on their faces. Ginny had gone out to the school that was situated behind the house to fetch a lesson book and to feed the class's pet plimpy. She announced that she would be going over some lesson plans in preparation of the new coming term if anyone needed anything. Connor and the others helped to clear the dishes from the table, and Dobby appeared to take over soon after, so they escaped to the living room.

"Look guys," Connor said as they all flopped down into armchairs and couches, "I'm sorry about Rupert and all. I wanted our last week of summer together to be fun."

"Don't worry," Ivy said brightly. "It will be. He's bound to be better tomorrow once he has a chance to think about it all."

"I wouldn't count on it," Rachel said darkly. "After all of the stuff we said to him at dinner, he just stormed off. He didn't even ask to be excused, two seconds after being asked to mind his manners!"

"You know," Quentin said. "I think that Zack might have been closer to the mark than we might have thought."

"What do you mean?" Ian asked. He was sitting on the floor, setting up a chessboard.

"I don't think he really knows better," Quentin said. "As strange as it seems, he really might be acting the way he always acts, and no one has ever told him it's rude. He actually seems to believe that it's a parent's job to be at his beck and call and to cater to him."

"Well he's going to have a very long week, then, " Ian answered tartly. "Even if Mum and Dad let him get away with it, the rest of us won't, will we?"

"No, we won't" Quentin agreed. "But we don't have to be mean about it, either. Maybe if we just politely remind him when he says or does rude things, he'll get the point. We can't keep riling him, or we'll all end up miserable."

Lucy appeared in the room after that, carrying a duffel bag. "Well, I'm off!"

"Got Aunt Hermione to take you in?" Connor asked, scratching at his hands again. They were still itching from the steam room this morning, even though he had scrubbed his hands with soap and water.

"Yes," Lucy said cheerfully. "With Rachel over here for the week, it's an even trade."

Everyone said good-bye to her as she vanished through the Floo, and Adam muttered, "She's so lucky," as he watched her go.

"At least I won't have to share a room," Ian said cheerfully enough. "I'll just sleep in Lucy's."

Ian finished setting up the chessboard, and Ivy settled opposite him, while Rachel sprawled on the floor beside them to watch, and offer Ivy advice. Ian was quite good at chess, and these particular chessmen were very devoted to him. Adam came over to watch as well; with a couple of custard coloured fur balls in his arms. They were all glad that Snowball was not brought out as well, since Adam seemed to be the only one who didn't find the mutant Puffskein unsettling.

Quentin, Zack and Connor sat together, idly shuffling through stacks of the ever-popular chocolate frog cards, and talking about the fact that they would be allowed to visit Hogsmeade this year on certain weekends. Occasionally there was a loud crackling sound, or excited voices heard coming from the basement, and after the third time that Connor's uncle shouted, Quentin got up and went to listen at the door of the basement.

"I'm never going to see my broom again, am I?" he asked mournfully. A sudden whoop of laughter floated up to their ears from the other side of the door, and Quentin absentmindedly began chewing on his thumbnail.

"Sure you will!" Connor said with an evil grin. "Parts of it, anyway."

When Quentin blanched, Rachel looked over and said, "Don't worry Quint. My dad and Uncle Harry are the best. If they break it, they can fix it."

"Or at least replace it," Connor said with a chuckle.

"You're not helping," Zack admonished, reaching over and shoving Connor's shoulder in admonishment.

Quentin stepped away from the door when he heard the thunder of footsteps coming up, just in time to avoid being hit as it crashed open. Ron was standing, holding Quentin's broom over his shoulder with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Say, Quentin," he said cheerfully. "Mind if I take your broom out for a bit of a test run? It's all in the name of progress."

"Oh Merlin," Quentin said sadly. "What have you done to it?"

"Oh nothing too much, yet," Ron answered breezily, as he walked toward the front door.

Harry was right behind him with another broom slung over his own shoulder, looking determined. Quentin was just about speak out against the possible mistreatment of his broom, but the door closed behind the two men before he could get any words out. The last thing he heard before they kicked off into the air, was Harry saying, "Come on, I'll prove it. I'll bet it can't reach..." His voice faded away as they disappeared into darkness outside.

"Look on the bright side," Rachel said to Quentin as he sat heavily back on his chair. "Uncle Harry did say he would get you any broom you wanted."

Quentin's moan of loss was cut short, as Rupert came into the room and asked, "Why would he buy you a broom? I was just looking at a magazine about them in Ian's room, and they're really expensive. At least I think they are; I have no idea how many pounds a galleon is worth."

"Oh Dad probably wouldn't have to buy one for him when he could make one," Connor answered. He knew that Quentin had been right; Rupert might just need some gentle lessons in manners to become tolerable, and so determined to do his best to be civil. "Dad and Uncle Ron, er, borrowed Quentin's broom for a little research, and promised to get him a new one if anything happened to it."

"Oh. I rather thought that if he would be buying anyone a broom, it would be me, since I'm the only one here without one, and I am his blood relative, and all." Rupert said.

Connor bit back a retort, having to remind himself already that he needed to have patience. Rupert may have been terribly spoiled at home, and given expensive gifts often, for all he knew.

"You don't even know how to fly," Adam said from his spot on the floor. "You thought making brooms was stupid."

"That was before I knew what they were for," Rupert said, sitting on the couch with a grunt. "How was I to know that they were so important to magicians?"

"Er," Zack said, feeling the need to correct Rupert, without upsetting him. "We don't call ourselves magicians. We're wizards or witches; saying magicians will probably earn you some strange looks."

"He's saying that people will laugh at you," Ian put in bluntly, moving one of his pawns as he spoke.

"Well it was an honest mistake," Rupert said testily, turning a bit red in the face.

"You're right," Quentin said easily. "It was. That's why we're telling you now, so you can avoid being laughed at."

"Oh," Rupert said, deflating a bit. "Mrs Potter said that I should come and find all of you to ask what there is to do around here."

"There's loads of stuff to do," Connor said. "It's too dark for anything outside, unless you like stargazing. We've got tons of books, there's another chess set here if you'd like to play, there are board games and cards; take your pick."

"Isn't there anything like television or the wireless or computers?" Rupert asked, almost sounding desperate.

"Well there is the Wizarding Wireless. I'm not sure how it works, to be honest, but you can listen to music and news and such on it. I think there's even some shows like Muggles used to listen to before they had television." Zack said. "I don't think you'll find it very much like the Muggle version, though; it's all Wizarding bands."

"I'll play you a game of chess, if you'd like," Connor offered. Chess seemed to be a safe game to challenge him at, since most of the time was spent in silence, and concentrating on his moves would leave him little time for caustic remarks.

"I don't know how to play," Rupert sulked.

"Would you like to learn?" Quentin asked.

"No," Rupert answered with a disinterested air.

"You _will_ get used to living without electricity and Muggle contraptions," Zack assured him. "Electricity and magic just don't mix. I don't think I'd want them to. It didn't take me long at all to learn to live without them, once I learned how magic can replace most things."

"Like what?" Rupert asked, sounding curious now.

"Like light, for one," Zack pointed out. "There's light everywhere in here, but not a single light bulb or switch. It's all magically generated lamps and candles or torches."

"What else?"

"Well how about travel? Do you have any idea how far you travelled to get here?" Zack asked.

"No," came the answer. "I don't even really know where we are."

"We're near Warwickshire," Connor supplied.

"Well, I live in Surrey," Rupert said.

"That's quite a long way," Zack said. "It would have meant at least an hour in a car or on a train, but you made the trip in less than a minute."

"I didn't like that much," Rupert said darkly.

"No, well, you had a bad experience," Quentin said in a placating tone. None of them had forgotten his ill temper upon his arrival that day. "You'll find it much easier next time, now that you know what to expect. Plus, there's apparition that you can do in a few years, and that's almost instantaneous."

"And brooms," Rachel put in, wincing as one of Ivy's chessmen was bludgeoned. "Lot's of Wizarding folk travel by broomstick."

"The point is," Zack said. "The magical world has lots of things to make up for the things it doesn't have. If I had to choose right now which world I was going to live in for the rest of my life, it would be no contest. Once you realize the magic you have inside of you, you'll never be the same again."

"Have you ever done any magic?" Connor asked curiously. "You know, accidentally?"

"I made the kitchen table disappear," Ian announced in an off-handed way.

"I made our kneazle go bald," Ivy offered. The others laughed appreciatively.

"I don't think so," Rupert said, thinking about it. "I thought my Dad was going to have a fit when an owl came to the house with a letter from a Wizarding School."

"What made you want to come so badly, if you've never even seen magic before, and your parents were so against it?" Connor asked. Now that he thought about it, Rupert hadn't seemed all that surprised at the magic he'd seen performed so far, and he wondered why.

"I wanted to be able to do something that no one else in my family could," he said immediately. "I want to learn how to make stuff disappear, and how to make my own money, and to just be... the _boss_ for once."

"Oh dear," Ivy said, looking up from her game. She was losing miserably anyway, now that Rachel wasn't giving her advice. "You're bound to be disappointed. You won't be able to make your own money. Not the way you mean, anyway. And if you mean by being 'the boss', that you want to use magic to use people or to make them do what you want, that's pretty much illegal."

"Magic isn't a cure-all," Zack said quietly, feeling suddenly sorry for Rupert, suddenly. Magic wasn't some new wonder for Rupert that had swept him away with the amazement of it all, as it had been for Zack. "It won't give you power. Not the way you're thinking. It's a lot of hard work, and it's amazing, but it's not a guarantee of a better life. That part is up to you and what you choose to do with it." He had heard a similar speech from one of his professors in his first year, and it had stuck with him.

Rupert didn't seem too pleased with that, and sat sulking for a moment, before saying, "Then what good is it?"

"It's just what you _are_," Ian said, as if this explained everything.

"Why didn't anyone tell me all of this before?" Rupert demanded.

"We can't read your mind," Rachel said. "If you don't know something, you have to ask about it."

"So I won't be able to just wave a wand or my hand or something, and conjure up what I want?" Rupert asked, beginning to sound petulant again.

"Well eventually, you'll be able to conjure some things, but they don't really last. You can transfigure stuff too, that's changing one thing into something else," Ivy added, seeing the confused look on his face. "But that's not usually permanent either. It can be useful, though. Transfiguration is one of the classes you'll take at Hogwarts."

"I saw that there was book on my list like that," Rupert said. "And Charms and History of Magic, and some others."

"You see," Connor said. "There's a lot to learn, but once you do, you'll see how great it is."

"I didn't think it would be quite so much work," Rupert admitted with a furrowed brow. "My dad said that it was all just a bunch of wand waving and silly words."

"Well," Rachel pointed out, "Your father is a Muggle, isn't he? And he hates magic. He wouldn't know much about how it all works."

"Maybe my Dad was right," Rupert said. "Maybe I shouldn't have come."

"Then why did you?" Ian asked.

"My brother told me I should," Rupert mumbled.

"You have a brother?" This surprised Connor; his father had never mentioned it. But then, his father had never talked about the Dursleys much before, and never in a happy or cheerful way.

"Kyle," Rupert nodded glumly. "He's four years older than me, and my Dad's favourite. He's a boxer, and he's really strong and athletic and he's everything I'm not. He said that maybe I should think about going to Hogwarts when the letter came. Said that I should _do something_ for a change."

Rupert saw the almost pitying looks the others were giving him, and seemed to think he'd said too much. He looked now like he regretted sharing such a private detail, and his face began to turn red. He stood up quickly and began to leave the room without another word.

"There's still time to change your mind, if you want to," Quentin said to his retreating back.

Rupert stopped for a moment and nodded without turning around.

"But I think you'd regret it," Quentin finished, and watched the boy disappear into the other room.

"What do you think he'll do?" Ivy asked once Rupert left. But no one knew the answer to that question.

"At least he was nicer this time," Connor said. "Maybe there's hope for him."

"We'll see," Ian said sceptically.

Everyone was tired by the time they all went upstairs. Quentin looked at the front door longingly, wondering what had become of his broom, but followed the others easily enough. Ian went into his room briefly to get some things, and told Rupert that he would be having his own room after all. With an armful of clothes, he retreated to Lucy's empty room for the night, shutting the door behind him. Ginny came and checked on everyone a few minutes later, and warned them not to stay up too late, or wake up too early, since tomorrow was Sunday. Ivy and Rachel were both giggling together and yawning widely by the time they closed the door to the guest room.

The boys were a little cramped in Connor's room, but none of them minded. None of them wanted to share a room with Adam, Rupert or Ian, for fear of missing out on something one of the others said. When they settled into their beds, they had thought they would end up talking late into the night, but the flying must have taken it's toll, because before long, Zack and Quentin were fast asleep.

Connor found that he couldn't fall asleep, even after practicing his Occlumency. His hands were itching again, and so he crept quietly out of the room and down the stairs thinking of asking his Mum for some salve. Maybe Dobby had left some of his iced oatmeal biscuits in the larder as well, and he could have a snack before trying to go back to sleep. His mother's door was open, and she was sitting up in bed, reading. She spotted him outside the door, and had a look at his hands when he told her about the itching and the magical steam. Though she couldn't see any rash or other sign of irritation, she rummaged in a drawer and came up with a small pot of cream that smelled faintly of cedar and chamomile. It was strangely soothing as he rubbed it in.

He thanked her, and snuck down the staircase instead of heading up while she had her back turned to put the cream away. He stopped when he heard voices coming from the kitchen, and recognized them as his father and Uncle Ron. Connor reckoned they must have finished with Quentin's broom for the evening, and he wondered if it had survived. He was about to go all the way down and ask about it, when he heard his father talking about Rupert. He inched forward, and could see that both of them had their feet propped up on the table, and each had a bottle of ale in front of them, along with a big plate of the biscuits that Connor had originally come down to pilfer. He eased back and sat on a step to listen, wondering what his father really thought of his cousin's son.

"I don't know what I was thinking, Ron, I really don't," his Dad said tiredly. "I got that letter, and all I could think of was Dudley beating up on some poor scrawny kid, and locking him in the cupboard under the stairs, the way Uncle Vernon did to me."

"You thought you would rescue him the way Hagrid did for you," Uncle Ron's deep voice rumbled. "You thought he needed saving."

"Merlin, was I wrong!" came the reply. "He's like a duplicate version of Dudley at that age, but a lot smarter than Dudders was. I got there, and Dudley actually acted like he was happy to see me. It was bizarre. Then I met the older son, Kyle, and he's nothing like Dudley was at all. He was tall and wiry and physically fit, and when I met his mother I could see why. I don't know how Dudley managed it, but his wife is a nice looking, trim woman. She didn't really talk much while I was there, though I got the impression from talking to my cousin that he married the first woman that came along, during the height of his boxing days."

"What happened to your aunt and uncle?" Ron asked. "I thought that if Rupert got a letter from Hogwarts, they'd have had a fit and rushed over to put a stop to it."

"They probably would have," Harry said, "But they were on holiday at their summer place in Majorca. They gave the house on Privet Drive to Dudley as a wedding gift, and moved into a flat in London. I think that Dudley was hoping that I could 'fix' his son before they returned."

"So what happened when you talked to Dudley?" Ron prompted.

"Basically it was like watching twins have a temper tantrum together," Harry said. "Far from being scrawny and abused, Rupert is just as fat and spoiled as his father was, and he was screaming at the top of his lungs that he was going to go to 'magician school' whether his father liked it or not, and that no one was going to stop him. Dudley was shouting loud enough that I thought the neighbours would call the police. He was saying that no boy of his was going to go to some freak school in the middle of God-knows-where and learn magic tricks. Then they rounded on me."

"Oh boy," Ron chuckled. There were sounds as though both men were pausing to take drinks from their bottles.

"Dudley started shouting about how I must have done something to his son, and that I'd better just take whatever curse I'd put on him off. I asked him if Rupert had done anything unusual, but they said he hadn't, so I don't think they had any inkling that he would be getting a letter. I explained about bloodlines and such, but as usual, Dudley wouldn't listen to anything I had to say. In the end, his wife, Pearl, just stood up and said, 'Dudley, be quiet,' and he just shut up. It was amazing. Then she asked Rupert if he really wanted to go, even against their wishes, and the kid said yes. He said that he was tired of always being second to Kyle, and that he wanted to be someplace where no one knew he had a brother who was better than him."

"Ouch," Ron said with a sympathetic tone in his voice.

"Yeah," Harry said. "That was what got me, I think. I told them that there was no 'cure' for magic, and that they either accepted it, or they didn't. I told them that McGonagall had asked me to act as their Muggle Liaison, and to tell them anything they needed to know. I gave them the books and pamphlets, too, and told them to read up on it. I said I could come back the next day, and maybe take them to Diagon Alley to get his school things so that they could see for themselves, or I could come get Rupert and take him with me and they could trust me to see to getting what he needs. Then I offered to answer any questions."

"What did they say to that?"

"Rupert's mum just said, 'You come back tomorrow and pick Rupert up. He'll be packed and ready to go.' Not exactly what I meant."

"No, really?" was Ron's sarcastic reply.

"I tried to tell them that I had only meant I would take him shopping, but they just rolled right over me. Dudley said that I had to take Rupert until September first. He said that once Rupert saw what kind of freaks we actually were, he'd stop this nonsense and beg to come home; then they'd take him to Smeltings like they had planned."

"I can't believe you agreed to that," Ron said with a laugh. "Well, actually, I _can_, Mr Hero, but you got played like a violin."

"Tell me about it," Harry said. "I went and got the boy this morning, and he must have had every single thing he'd ever owned packed up. I had to explain to him that he couldn't bring his television or cell phone or computer, and that he'd really only need some nice warm clothes and basic toiletries. He still ended up with a huge trunk, stuffed full! He's either going to have to thin it out, or we're going to have to put some serious charms on that trunk."

"So what has he thought of everything so far?" Ron asked, sounding as though his mouth was stuffed with a biscuit.

"He's been a little berk since he arrived," Harry said bluntly. On the stairs, Connor grinned widely. "I made Dudley drive us into London, and took Rupert to the Leaky Cauldron so we could Floo here. I explained how the Floo worked, and how to stand and what to say, and told him that I'd be there at the other end to catch him when he came out."

"Let me guess," Ron said. "It didn't go so well?"

"Got it in one," Harry said. "You remember how big Dudley was before he started boxing, don't you? Well let's just say that the apple didn't fall far from the tree. When I made sure he got the Floo address right, I apparated straight into the living room, and he came out looking like he'd been painted black and dragged through a hedge backward."

Ron laughed loudly at this, and Harry joined in briefly, remembering the image. "I'll bet he wasn't happy about that!" Ron said.

"That would be an understatement. From that point on, things went downhill," Harry said ruefully. "He's been as unpleasant as he possibly can, his vocabulary doesn't seem to include the words 'please' or 'thank you' at all, and he treats everyone like his personal servant. He was rude to Ginny tonight at dinner, and I was about to lose it, but the kids took care of it. Ian exploded, and the all of the other kids put in their opinion. He stormed out the room, and when Ginny went to talk to him, he was ordering Dobby around, making him unpack and iron his clothes! That boy needs to be taught a lesson, and I'm going to be the one to give it to him if he doesn't start to show some respect. We'll see how things go tomorrow, and when we go to Diagon Alley on Monday."

"Well I'll wish you good luck on that one, I have a feeling you're going to need it," Ron said.

There was sound as though they had tapped their bottles together in a toast, and Connor stood up and was about to retreat, when his Uncle Ron spotted movement on the stairs and called to him.

"Hey Con," his Dad said, when he came into the room. "What are you doing up?"

"Hoping for some oatmeal biscuits," he answered easily, snagging one off of the plate. "I couldn't get to sleep."

"Pull up a chair," Uncle Ron invited. "Want a Butterbeer?"

"No thanks, I'll just get some milk." Connor poured himself a glass, and joined them at the table.

"Your occlumency exercises didn't help?" his dad asked with concern.

"Nah," Connor said. "I think I'm just too wound up from having my friends here and stuff. How did Quentin's broom do?"

"I'm a genius," Ron announced proudly, thumping his chest.

Both Connor and Harry rolled their eyes and chuckled.

"I thought Quentin was going to cry when you took off on it," Connor said with a grin.

"No worries," Harry said, picking up a biscuit and dunking it in Connor's milk. "We won't let him go back to school without a broom."

"Without _a _broom, or without _his_ broom?" Connor asked shrewdly.

"A fine distinction," Ron agreed.

"The Wizengamot's still out on that one," Harry smiled. "We did get Ivy's broom fixed, and made some adjustments to Zack's. If your Aunt Hermione will let Ron come over again tomorrow, we'll do a bit more tinkering."

"Speaking of which," Ron said, dropping his feet to the floor and standing. "I'm already in the doghouse for being out so late, and now I'm coming home with ale on my breath. I'd better go make nice."

They both said good night, and watched as Ron disappeared with a loud _pop_.

"So do you think you could get to sleep now?" Harry asked as Connor yawned and nodded. "Come on, let's go to bed."

Harry slung an affectionate arm around his son, and they climbed the stairs together.


	3. Chapter Three Preparations

**Chapter Three – Preparations**

_When we long for life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure. --Peter Marshall_

Sunday morning was quiet and relaxed.

The boys got up late in the morning and dressed for a day outdoors. They planned to trek across the surrounding countryside and stop at the stream that Connor had told them about the day before. As they passed Ian's room, the sound of Rupert's snores could be heard through the door. Connor wondered if he would be lucky enough to sneak his friends out before the annoying git woke.

In the kitchen they found Ginny sitting at the table reading the Daily Prophet; Harry was at the stove wearing an apron and expertly flipping an omelette while he whistled tunelessly.

"Good morning, boys," Harry greeted them. "Hungry?"

"Starved," Connor said with a grin as they all sat down at the table. "Are Ivy and Rachel up yet?"

"Yes," Ginny said, looking up from her paper. "They were up an hour ago. They've gone out to the tree house with Adam and Ian. That nest of eggs that they've been watching all summer has begun to hatch, and they're trying to get a closer look."

"We were thinking about going to the stream and doing some exploring today," Connor announced, ducking as his father sent a plate over his head to settle in front of his mum.

"That sounds like fun," she answered. "It's supposed to be particularly hot today."

"Do you think that we could take a hamper of food with us?" Connor asked. "That way we wouldn't have to worry about being back in time for lunch."

"If you want to make one up, I don't think that would be a problem," Ginny answered, taking a bite of her omelette. "But it's Sunday, so you're on your own."

At Quentin's quizzical look, Connor explained. "Sunday is Dobby's and my mum's day off. Neither one of them does housework or cooking on Sundays unless it's a holiday or a special occasion of some sort."

"That would explain your dad wearing an apron," Zack said with a smile.

"Hey," Harry said with a mock stern voice. "It's a very manly apron. Do you want breakfast or not?"

"Sure, Mr Potter," Zack said. "Would you like some help?"

"I wouldn't turn it down," Harry answered.

The boys all went over to the counter and were given different tasks, and then Harry sat next to Ginny and snagged her cup to sip at her tea. There was a sound on the stairs, and Connor saw that Rupert had emerged, and that he didn't look to be in any better a mood than he had been at dinner the night before. He looked at Mr and Mrs Potter sitting at the table, then over at the boys, who were enthusiastically chopping ham, grating cheese and stirring eggs.

"Don't you have a servant to do that stuff?" he asked, as though afraid he might be put to work.

"The boys are doing just fine," Ginny answered with an unconcerned air. "Mr Potter was just about to make everyone some omelettes; would you care for one?"

He nodded and shrugged at the same time, and sat down at the table without offering to help. He stared out the window, ignoring everyone else, until the other boys finished the ingredient preparations, and the hiss and sizzle of cold egg meeting hot pan filled the air.

Connor set out napkins and silverware, poured out glasses of juice for everyone, and then sat down.

"Thank you," Quentin said politely.

"Yes, thanks, Connor," Zack said in a slightly louder than normal voice.

Everyone in the room paused to stare at Rupert pointedly, so that he could not look in any direction without meeting someone's expectant eyes.

"Thanks," he grunted reluctantly.

"You're welcome," Connor answered cheerfully. "We're in for a treat. My Dad makes the best omelettes ever."

"What would you like in yours, Rupert?" Harry asked from his place at the stove.

"Cheese and tomatoes," he said, surveying what was on the counter. He looked up to see the others staring at him again and sighed heavily. "Please."

"Can do," Harry said with a grin. He directed his wand at the bowls of cheese and tomatoes, making a bit of each fly into the eggs before neatly folding the omelette over. Then he transferred it over to a plate, and sent it across the room with his wand to land in front of Rupert.

This time, Rupert didn't wait for everyone to stare. He looked up at Harry and said an exaggerated and mocking, "_Thank you_."

"You're welcome," Harry answered. "How about you, Quentin?"

"Just cheese, please," Quentin answered.

Soon everyone was eating the excellent omelettes that Harry had made.

They only looked up when Ron entered – he had apparently let himself into the house, and wandered into the kitchen.

"Good morning, everyone!" he said cheerfully. "What's for breakfast?"

"You can make yourself am omelette, if you want," Harry said. "The stuff's still out."

"Right," Ron said easily. "Thanks."

Connor knew that his uncle had been in and out of this house often enough over the years to know that he could easily make himself at home. He poured the remainder of whatever was left in any of the bowls into the frying pan, and waved his wand over it in a stirring motion while it all sizzled and cooked together. By the time he sat down at the table next to Harry, he had a huge pile of scrambled eggs laden with a bit of everything in them.

"I see Hermione let you out today," Harry said, "even after being out all night."

"She can't resist me," Ron answered, waggling his eyebrows and grinning.

Rupert stared at this newcomer in something akin to shock as he eyed the enormous amount of food on his plate.

Ginny chuckled and folded up the paper.

"Don't worry, Rupert; Ron's hollow. He can eat twice his body weight, and often does, if no one stops him."

Ron simply grinned and took a huge bite.

"Rupert," Harry said politely, "this is my brother-in-law, Ron Weasley. He's Rachel's father. Ron, this is my cousin's youngest son, Rupert. He's staying with us until term starts at Hogwarts."

"Hello, Rupert," Ron said in a friendly tone, as if he hadn't heard about him already. "What do you think of everything so far? Excited to learn some magic?"

"I suppose," Rupert said, looking at his plate.

"Well you couldn't have a better start than having Harry to be your guide," Ron said to the top of the boy's head. "How many wizards can say that the first wizard that they ever met was the most famous wizard of all?"

Harry groaned and shook his head at Ron.

Ron looked sheepish and said, "Sorry, I thought he'd know."

"Know what?" Rupert asked, bringing his head up to stare at the adults.

"Yeah," Connor said after a moment of silence, "Dad's a bit famous. It's kind of a pain, really."

Harry chuckled darkly. "It's all a long time ago," he said. "Before you all were even born."

"Mr Potter defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard in history when he was only seventeen years old," Quentin supplied, apparently oblivious to the adults' attempt to change the subject. "You'll learn all about it in History of Magic class."

Rupert's eyes had gone wide now, and Harry glared at Ron, who simply shrugged.

"Like he wasn't going to find out," Ron said by way of an excuse.

"How long ago was that?" Rupert asked.

"About twenty years," Harry said. "A long time."

"And you're still the most famous wizard there is?" Rupert persisted.

"I wouldn't say that," Harry said, beginning to turn red. "Probably just the most recent."

"Mr Potter doesn't like to talk about it that much," Ginny said gently. "We can give you some books to read, if you're interested in knowing more about it. Your new history textbook will have a bit about it, and we're going to be going to get everyone their school supplies tomorrow."

Rupert seemed to want to ask more questions, but Harry spoke before he could give voice to any new questions. "So you kids are going to pack a food hamper, right?"

"What for?" Ivy asked, walking into the kitchen holding a battered pair of omnioculars. "Hi, Mr Weasley."

"For going to the stream today for a picnic," Zack said.

"Great!" Rachel said, coming in behind Ivy. "Hey, Dad."

"Count me out," Ian said, coming in behind the girls. "Adam and I are going to Fred and George's shop for the day. They're letting us test out some new products."

"Better you than me," Rachel said with a grin.

"Did you want to come along, Rupert?" Quentin asked, apparently feeling the need to be polite. His ears turned faintly pink when Ginny smiled at him in gratitude.

"Where is it?" Rupert asked suspiciously.

"About two kilometres, as the owl flies," Connor said casually. He took his plate to the sink and began rummaging for biscuits and crisps to pack, hoping that Rupert wouldn't be interested.

"How would we get there?" Rupert asked.

"Walking, of course!" Rachel told him, as if it were obvious.

"Then no. It's hot out." Rupert said dismissively.

In fact, Connor noticed the younger was already lightly perspiring, even though the house was relatively cool.

"The fresh air and exercise might do you some good," Ginny suggested mildly. Then she turned to Connor and said, "Pack something more than junk, young man."

"Yes ma'am," he answered, and obligingly got some fruit out of the chilling cabinet as well.

"I'll make some sandwiches," Rachel volunteered, shooing Connor away from the counter. "Why don't you find everyone some towels and get an old blanket to spread out."

"Well," Ron said, shovelling the last of his eggs into his mouth, "should we get started?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, taking Ron's and his own plate to the sink. "I want to try that charm we were talking about last night."

"Er, Mr Potter?" Quentin said timidly. "Is my broom still in one piece?"

"So far," Harry answered with a wink.

Quentin made a small sound in this throat, something akin to a whimper.

Connor felt a little sympathy for him as Ron laughed loudly, and the men disappeared through the door to the basement. Ginny got up and found them a large basket to carry their lunch in, and Zack helped Rachel pack it with sandwiches and the other things Connor had retrieved. Ivy and Quentin had snuck over the basement door and had their ears pressed against it to see if they could hear anything that was going on inside.

"What will you do today, Rupert?" Ian asked.

"I suppose I'll find something to do around here. Maybe read a bit." He didn't get to finish his thought, because yet another red-haired man had just appeared in the centre of the room, startling nearly everyone.

"George!" Ginny scolded. "You're going to scare the life out us.'

"Sorry," he smiled. He didn't look sorry at all. "Are my two victims ready to go?"

"I'm ready, Uncle George!" Adam cried, launching himself at the man's legs.

"Hey, champ!" George scooped Adam up in one arm with a grunt and said, "You're getting too big for this!"

Adam hugged him around the neck and wriggled to the ground again. George stepped up to Ginny to give her a kiss on the temple. "You've got a houseful, I see," he observed. "I recognize the Weasleys and the Potters, and I remember Zack from last Christmas. Ivy and Quentin have both been into my shop; that means you must be Rupert."

Rupert looked surprised to find that George knew his name, but nodded.

"Hello. I'm Ginny's brother, George. Harry Flooed Zoë yesterday – that's my wife – and told her about things. I think we're all going to Diagon Alley together tomorrow to buy everything everyone needs once the letters arrive. My Patrick is starting this year too, so you'll be the same age," George told Rupert. He ignored the way the boy was staring at his empty sleeve where his arm should have been. "You know, it's been years since I saw your father, but if memory serves, you look a lot like him."

"What happened to your arm?" Rupert asked bluntly, obviously unable to keep the question in.

"Giant ripped it off," George answered promptly, without any sign of being embarrassed.

"A giant." Rupert's expression showed his scepticism. "Like Jack and the Bean Stalk?"

"No," George said levelly. "Nothing so nice as that."

Rupert looked around at the others, but no one looked as though they were trying to hold in a laugh. In fact, Ivy looked horrified, and Zack's mouth was hanging open.

"Well, who's going with me?" George asked, dispersing the sudden tension in the room.

"I am!" Adam shouted.

"Me, too!" Ian said, looking eager at the prospect of being a test subject.

"To the Floo with you then, and I'll meet you in the Leaky Cauldron," he ordered, giving them a gentle shove in the right direction.

"I want those two back in exactly the same condition as when they left here!" Ginny said to her brother firmly. "No pig snouts or blue hair or boils or anything else."

"You're no fun." George said with a mock-pout, and with a _crack_, he was gone.

Rupert sat there looking slightly dazed. "He was joking, wasn't he?"

"No," Ginny said simply. "He lost his arm in the war."

"What war?" Rupert asked.

"The same one where Uncle Harry defeated Voldemort." Rachel said. "The dark wizard that we were talking about earlier."

"And you're telling me that there's really such a thing as giants?" he said, sounding slightly disbelieving and a bit fearful.

"Not anymore," Ginny answered sadly. "At least not anywhere in Europe."

"Well we're all ready to go," Connor said, ignoring the indignant look Rupert was shooting at him for the interruption. He lifted the basket off of the counter. "This is heavier than I thought! Could you make it a bit lighter, Mum?"

His mum took her wand from her pocket and cast a simple charm on the basket, then admonished them all to be careful and to have fun.

The girls slipped up the stairs to put their bathing suits on under their clothes.

"Are you sure you don't want to come along?" Connor asked Rupert one last time.

"I'm sure," he said. "Is Dobby around at all?" His tone was hopeful.

"No," Ginny said. "It's his day off, and he's spending it with friends."

"Oh." He looked a bit disappointed by this news. "Is it okay for me to look through some of the books around here?"

"Sure," Ginny answered. "Any dangerous ones are locked up, so feel free to read whatever you like."

The girls returned from upstairs, and Connor and his friends left the house, and set off down the worn track that they children had made from years of tramping through the grass. The sun was bright, the grass was soft and lush, and it was a perfect day to be outdoors. It only took them about thirty minutes of brisk walking to reach the wide stream, which was in the centre of a cluster of tall trees that had grown at the water's edge. There were shallow areas that they could wade in, but the thick rope hanging from a branch over the water was a sure sign that the area beneath it was deep enough for swimming. It was placed perfectly to make it easy for swimmers to swing out over the water and land in the centre of the deepest area.

Ivy and Rachel set out the blanket and hung the towels on some low tree branches where they would be easy to grab.

The shade helped to dispel some of the oppressive heat, and the occasional breeze was welcome as they shucked off their shoes, socks and shirts.

Zack climbed the tree with the rope hanging from it and shimmied back down, holding the rope. With a deep breath, he stepped away from the edge of the water as far as the rope would allow. He took a few running steps forward and swung out over the water, letting go about mid-way over the deep area, and plunged into the stream.

His shout when he surfaced made several birds and a rabbit flee the wooded area in fright. "That's cold!" he said, treading water. "I mean… refreshing! You should all come in!"

Quentin and Connor both laughed, and Rachel arched an eyebrow as she noticed that his skin had erupted in gooseflesh. Ivy, on the other hand, was reaching out to grab the rope that was still swinging in wide arcs over the water.

"You're not really going to…" Rachel began, but it was too late.

Ivy screamed just before she hit the water, and Zack laughed when she surfaced with her teeth already chattering. "Where does this stream originate?" she asked in a shivering voice. "The North Pole?"

"Oh come on!" Zack chided. "It's not _that_ bad! It just takes a minute to get used to it."

"Maybe if you're a penguin!" she protested, but made no move to leave the water.

Connor said suddenly, spinning on the spot to look at Quentin. "Don't sit there!" she warned with enough urgency in his tone to have everyone staring.

Quentin, who had been about to take a seat on a fallen log, waved his arms like windmills to keep the momentum from taking him all the way down. He spun to see what danger he'd narrowly avoided. "What is it?"

Connor bent down and grabbed a stone the size of his fist, and the others backed away. He threw the stone at the log, and hit it with a solid _thump. _

A long, thin snake, bothered by the disturbance, slithered out of a deep crevice in the wood, and slipped away from them through the leaves and out of sight.

"Was it poisonous?" Zack asked, hoisting himself out of the water. He turned to help Ivy out, and handed her a towel before reaching for one of his own.

"Don't know," Connor said. "Does it matter? Even non-poisonous snakes can bite if you make them mad enough."

"Thanks, mate," Quentin said with a small shudder.

The friends spent the rest of the day enjoying the late summer in the shade of the trees, occasionally wading or splashing in the stream. They were looking forward to their outing to Diagon Alley the next day, and discussed all of the shops they wanted to visit if they could. Connor felt sure that they would be able to go off on their own for a bit, since it would take the first year kids longer to get their supplies than everyone else. They didn't start back to the Potter's house until late in the afternoon when an owl fluttered through the trees with a note for them that read, "Time to come home."

They tramped across the fields; Ivy and Rachel gathered wildflowers as they went. The boys talked about trying to tune in to catch the Bats/Arrows match that night on the wireless.

As they approached the low stone wall that marked the beginning of Potter property, Connor noticed that Rupert was sitting in the vegetable patch, half-heartedly pulling weeds from the dark soil around the squashes.

Connor walked up to the edge of the tilled earth and said, "Someone must have told Mum that they didn't have anything to do."

Rupert just scowled up at him.

"How long have you been out here?" Connor asked. His mother doled out this particular chore fairly often, and how long she made you keep at it depended on how annoyed she was, and how much effort you put into the task.

"I don't know," Rupert sulked. "It seems like hours!"

"Well, you're probably safe to come inside, now that we're all back," Connor said. He was feeling happy and content after such a nice day, and had weeded the vegetables often enough to commiserate.

Rupert looked relieved and quickly scrambled to his feet. "I'm glad," he said, looking over to a shaded corner of the patch. "I swear I keep seeing little animals running around here, but as soon as I try to see them properly, they've gone."

"Those are probably just garden gnomes," Connor said. "No doubt the next one of us in trouble with Mum or Dad will be de-gnoming the whole garden."

Rupert was looking at Connor as though he'd gone mad, and Zack laughed. "Gnomes are little garden pests," he explained. "Not like the garden decorations Muggles put out. They look a bit like potatoes with arms and legs, and live underground."

Rupert didn't have a reply to that.

They all trooped into the house, and Ginny came to meet them. "Sorry to call you home," she said. "But Clive just Flooed, and he can't come tomorrow night, and wants to come tonight instead."

"So much for the Quidditch match," Connor muttered. "You guys should be able to listen to it, though. I'd better go get washed up."

"Don't worry, Connor," Ginny said, ruffling his hair. "He won't keep you that long. Unless the Snitch is caught in the first ten minutes, you should be able to hear most of the match."

Connor's friends knew from his letters that Clive was his Occlumency instructor, but Rupert looked confused.

"Who's Clive?" he asked.

Before Connor to respond, his mother answered for him. "Connor has a special tutor who works with him a few times a week"

"Why? Is he a bit slow or something?" Rupert asked.

"Not at all," Ginny said, answering before Connor could give in to the indignation showing on his face and lash out. "Mr Sharpe is teaching Connor a subject not offered at Hogwarts."

"Why does he get to learn extra magic?" Rupert demanded. "Why should he have an advantage over everyone else? I think if my father knew…."

Rupert paused mid-sentence, looking pensive. Connor wondered what he had been about to say, even though he knew it probably wouldn't have been nice. If Rupert's father knew what, exactly? Didn't the boy's father hate magic? Surely he wouldn't care if his son got extra lessons in magic or not, and Connor thought that maybe Rupert had realized that before he could finish speaking.

Everyone was looking at Rupert with various expressions of annoyance. Rupert clearly didn't like anyone having anything better than he did, and was obviously used to not getting his way.

"Connor's extra lessons are not necessary for most people," Ginny said. "They're to help him stay focused and to repel unwanted to distractions in his mind from outside forces."

"So why doesn't everyone else need to learn it?" Rupert asked, seemingly still suspicious that he was being cheated out of something.

"Because not everyone is like me," Connor snapped. He used the explanation that his parents had used to explain all of this to Adam at the beginning of summer. "I have a high sensitivity to, er, certain things that other people don't normally notice. To keep it from distracting me all the time, Mr Sharpe helps me to filter it out so I can concentrate on regular stuff."

"It still doesn't seem fair," Rupert said.

"Wait until your first week at Hogwarts is over, and see how much you'd like to take extra classes then," Rachel suggested impatiently. "Pretty soon we're all going to be too busy to care about what anyone else might be learning."

Rupert just scowled in response.

"So," Ginny said, changing the subject. "Mr Potter should be coming out of his workshop in about an hour to turn on the game, and Mr Sharpe will be arriving in about fifteen minutes for Connor. You 're all on your own until then."

"How long are your lessons, Connor?" Zack asked.

"About an hour," Connor said. "Clive's pretty cool. He might let me out a bit sooner so I can hear the whole match."

Everyone went to wash up and change, and then Connor disappeared out to the small schoolhouse where he would meet Clive for his lesson.

He was a few minutes early, so he chose a seat and began to practice what he had been learning all summer. At first he opened up his mind to everything he could sense around him, briefly allowing himself to be assaulted by a cacophony of stimuli, all pressing in on him. Slowly, he began to filter it out and clear his mind, visualizing a calm blue sky.

He had chosen the sky as his focus since he had found it hard to think of _nothing_. It seemed to work well for him, helping him to blur his other thoughts and any outside sights or sound into insignificant static at the back of his mind.

He didn't even hear it when Clive came in and took a seat across from him, observing his work. Slowly, as Clive had taught him, he let his consciousness bring things back into focus, refusing to let distracting, unnecessary stimuli through the filter that he had created in his mind. Those things that he did not let into his conscious mind gathered together and took the shape of fluffy white clouds, which dotted the blue sky of his inner vision; easily ignored unless he wanted to pay particular attention to them. He allowed more of his surroundings to come into focus as his mind filtered though the mental static.

Soon he became aware that Clive was grinning at him from across the desk he was sitting at.

"You're doing great," Clive said warmly. "Did you have any stubborn images that refused to take cloud form?"

"Nope," Connor said with satisfaction. "Though it still seems strange how quiet everything seems once I'm done doing that."

"That will always be true to an extent," Clive said. "The images and thoughts and energy around you gradually build up during the course of the day, and you don't realize how loud the mental noise has actually gotten until it's suddenly no longer there."

"It's like going suddenly deaf," Connor said. "But I don't notice that it's building up until an especially strong image comes trying to get in, and…. Uh-oh."

"What is it?"

"My dad's going to – I've gotta go!"

Connor scrambled out of his chair and sprinted out of the schoolroom and darted toward the house, with Clive hot on his heels. They ran in through the back door and down the hall to the kitchen, then turned right, skidding to a stop at the basement door. Connor's hand slipped off the knob twice in his haste, but he finally fumbled it open and shouted, "Dad! Don't do it! It's the wrong jar!"

There was a sound of glass breaking, and he heard his Uncle Ron swearing.

"Are you all right?" Clive called down over Connor's shoulder.

"Yes," Harry called back. "You can come down."

Connor and Clive descended the steps to find Ron clearing up a mess with his wand, and Harry examining a jar with a red label on it.

"He was right, Ron," Harry said. "My glasses fogged up, and I grabbed the wrong jar. If we had gotten any of that other stuff on while the polish was still wet, we'd be on the way to St. Mungo's by now."

"That's encouraging," Ron said shakily. "Thanks for saving me the trip, Connor."

Connor just nodded, working to catch his breath, and Harry looked at his son and Clive a little sheepishly. "In my defence, I want to say that the other jar had a red label, too."

Ron snorted by way of reply, and cuffed Harry on the side of the head a little harder than strictly necessary, prompting Harry to punch him in the arm.

"What is going on down here?"

Ron flinched to hear the sound of his wife's voice at the top of the steps.

Connor grinned. His Aunt Hermione was one of the most intimidating people he knew when she wanted to be, but he could tell when she came down the stairs that she wasn't really angry right now.

"Nothing," Ron said quickly. "What makes you think anything is going on?"

Connor began to scratch at his suddenly itchy hands, thinking that what ever had been in the jar that broke must be similar to whatever it was that they used in the steam at _Dog Star_.

"It couldn't be the fact that Connor came tearing in here shouting," Hermione answered, crossing her arms in front of her. She had gotten her hair cut since the last time Connor had seen her, and the chin-length style suited her wild curls.

"Or that we heard something breaking, or that your trousers are torn."

"Come on," Connor said to Clive. "Disaster averted."

Clive raised a hand in salute to the other adults in the room, and followed Connor back up the stairs. Connor could hear the other kids playing some sort of game in the living room, but they didn't seem the least bit surprised about Connor's outburst. He and Clive walked through the kitchen and back down the hallway, and Connor thought of stopping to ask his mother for some more of the lotion she had given him for his hands before, but decided that the itch wasn't too bad now that they had left the basement.

"So," Clive said as they sat down in the schoolroom again. "That must have been a particularly strong premonition to break through so soon after you'd cleared everything out of your mind."

" I suppose," Connor said. "It seems like the ones that do get through lately are the ones that warn me that someone is in danger. Earlier today, I kept Quentin from sitting on a snake."

"And how many times a day have you been having warnings like that?" Clive asked.

"Before today, it's been about a week since the last one. The last time was at Dog Star when the boiler in the steam room was acting up, and Scully almost got burned," Connor said. "The little things get through sometimes, usually later in the day, when it's been a while since I've practiced. It's loads better since you started teaching me."

"Well, that's a good thing," Clive assured him. "And you don't necessarily want to block out those warning messages that you're getting, so I wouldn't say that it was a problem. When the little things start to come through, try to find a quiet spot to practice the Occlumency for a few minutes, and you should do just fine. Especially during the first couple of weeks of school when there's going to be a lot more energy moving around you, you'll probably need it two or three times a day."

He had said this before, and Connor knew that his constant repetition was Clive's way of making sure he got the message. _Don't slack off on your practice_.

They went through the visualization again together, with Clive using a weak Legilimency spell to follow Connor's progress. Clive was pleased when Connor was able to block him out and prevent him from entering his mind to cause a distraction.

They spoke casually for a few more minutes, and then Clive clapped Connor companionably on the shoulder. "I think we're done for today," he said. "I'm going to get going; I don't want to miss the Quidditch match! Go Bats!" With a wink, he Disapparated, and Connor went back to the house to join his friends.

Connor found that his Aunt Hermione had brought over a huge cauldronful of beef stew and was busily ladling it into large earthenware bowls. The noise from the living room, Connor found, included Ian and Adam, returned from their day with Uncle George. Lucy, Gwen and Prue had joined the family as well. Most of the kids were seated on the floor around the large, low table in the centre of the room, and were playing a card game called 'crazy legs,' which his mother claimed to have invented when she was a kid. The wireless had been brought out, and his Uncle Ron was fooling with the knobs, looking for the Quidditch match.

Connor flopped down on the couch between Zack and Rupert, and nudged Ian's back with the toe of his trainer, just to be annoying. The room was noisy and crowded - just the way Connor liked it best on a Sunday evening when family was over. Zack was leaning forward in his seat, peering over Ivy's shoulder at her cards, and Rupert seemed to be immersed in an old and battered copy of Quidditch through the Ages. His dad was wrestling in the corner with Adam and Prue, who were both six, gently tossing them around while they shrieked with glee.

Connor would miss all of this when they went back to Hogwarts next week, and knew that his parents would, too.

It wasn't long before everyone was sitting around with large bowls of stew, and listening to the game on the wireless. The card game was still carrying on, but the players were only half paying attention to it, and Ron whooped and cheered for the Bats as they effectively dominated the match.

The Arrows did end up catching the Snitch, but the damage had been done, and by the time the match was done an hour and twelve minutes later the Bats had won by thirty points.

Connor grinned as his father fished a few Galleons from his pocket and handed them over to Uncle Ron while his mother scowled half-heartedly. His dad couldn't resist rooting for the underdog, though Connor thought that it was kind of stupid to bet on them, whether you cheered for them or not.

It was after ten by the time the Weasleys left with Lucy in tow and Ginny chased everyone off to bed, claiming that they had a very busy day tomorrow and would want to be well rested.

As they all climbed the stairs, Ivy asked Rupert, "So, you're going to give Hogwarts a try after all?"

"I don't really have a choice," he said. "If I go home now, I'll never hear the end of it. Kyle will call me a quitter, my Dad will just say 'I told you so,' and I'll never live it down."

"I think you're making the right choice," she told him kindly. "You'll see."

The next morning, Ginny woke all of the kids and had everyone at the table eating breakfast by nine. Harry had taken the day off to help get the kids their school things, and they were just waiting for the post owl to arrive with the book lists for the older kids.

"Where are Ian and Adam going while we're gone?" Connor asked as he buttered his toast.

"They're going to spend the day at Ron and Hermione's," Ginny said.

"Post's here," Connor said.

Rupert looked at him strangely - his back was to the window.

Connor just shrugged.

Harry stood and opened the window, and a large brown owl swooped in with a thick packet of letters bearing the Hogwarts seal.

"I've got five new books this year," Connor said when Harry handed him his letter. "_Standard Book of Spells: Grade Three, A Practical Guide to Divination, Magical Creatures: From Flippers to Fur, Defence Against What's Out There_, and _1012 Magical Herbs and Fungi: Revised Edition_."

"Ivy and I are taking Arithmancy instead of Care of Magical Creatures," Quentin said. "Plus, I have Muggle Studies."

Harry almost choked on his tea at this announcement, evidently not quite able to grasp the concept of a Malfoy wanting to learn more about Muggle life. Ginny thumped him none too kindly on the back and said, "Those are excellent choices."

"I'm taking Divination as well, though," Ivy said.

"I chose Ancient Runes in place of Divination, but I'll be with Connor in Care of Magical Creatures," Zack said. "Professor Lupin said I had the right sort of brain for Ancient Runes, whatever that means. I asked him if he took Runes when he was at school, and he said, 'Merlin, no!' I wasn't sure whether he meant it in a nice way or not."

"How come you're taking all of those classes?" Rupert asked. "None of those were on my list."

"We still have to take all of the ones we had in first and second year," Quentin explained. "But in third year, you choose two electives to take as well."

"Okay, everybody," Harry said, draining his teacup. "Finish up and get your money and anything else you'll need. Rupert, I took the money from your father, and opened an account at Gringotts for you, as he requested. He gave me enough money for at least a couple of terms, plus some extra for you to have spending money."

When it was time to go, everyone in the kitchen was wearing robes except for Rupert.

"Don't worry," Ginny said, seeing that he felt out of place. "You can go as you are. There will be a lot of kids around who will be dressed in Muggle clothes today. Or if you'd prefer, I've got an old cloak here that I hemmed up that should fit you."

Rupert opted to take the cloak, and cringed as Ginny held out the pot of Floo Powder to Ian. He waited while Ian and Adam went on their way to their Aunt and Uncle's house, and became increasingly anxious as his turn drew nearer. He started badly when Quentin and Rachel had each disappeared with a _whoosh._

"Hey," Ivy said in a soothing voice when she saw how jumpy he was. "You'll do fine. Just be sure to keep your elbows in, stand up as straight as you can, and keep your eyes and mouth closed."

Connor nodded encouragingly.

Rupert gave her a tight-lipped little nod, but was too tense to say anything.

"Okay, Rupert," Harry said. "Your turn. It'll be fine now that you know what to expect."

Rupert stepped up into the fireplace and took a pinch of powder with a slightly trembling hand, and called out, "Diagon Alley!" as he threw the powder down.

"Do you think he'll come out all right?" Ivy asked as he whisked out of sight.

"Only one way to find out," Harry said, and handed the pot of Floo powder to Ginny before Disapperating.

"You next, Ivy," Ginny said, though she looked slightly worried. If the kids could have read her mind, they would know that she hadn't forgotten the time when Harry was new to Floo travel and had mispronounced the address for Diagon Alley, getting lost for a short time.

Finally Connor left in a roar of green flames.

As Connor stumbled out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, Ginny was already there with a brush, whisking away the soot from the shoulders of his robes. Connor looked around to see that Rupert, while a little blacker than everyone else, had made it through in one piece and was scowling as Harry tried to beat the soot off of him.

The eight Weasleys that would be attending Hogwarts this year were also crowded around. With his friends and Rupert also along for the trip, there were thirteen kids, plus his Mum, Dad, plus his Uncles Fred, George and Charlie to oversee the lot of them.

"Okay, everyone," Harry called over the group of chattering kids. "Patrick, Maggie and Rupert will be coming with me and Charlie today, since they are all first years, and have the most to buy."

Rupert, looking uncomfortable with all of the eyes on him, moved around the side of the group and stood beside Harry. Maggie, who had a short cap of springy brown curls, grinned and took her father's hand. Patrick grumbled that he wanted to be with the other kids, but joined Maggie and Rupert anyway.

"Jarod, Aiden, Shawn and Marcus, you're with me," Fred said.

This arrangement made sense, since all of the boys except Marcus were Fred's own children. Marcus looked like the odd one out with his pale blonde hair amidst all of the red, as his mother's Veela colouring had won out over the Weasley red. He was also the only Ravenclaw among them, and happy enough to be spending the day with his cousins, with whom he got along well.

"That leaves Connor, Rachel, Victoria, Ivy, Zack and Quentin to come with George and me," Ginny announced. "Now, we don't want anyone sneaking off on their own without permission, but if you should get separated from the rest, we're going to be meeting back here at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch at half one."

Everyone nodded, then headed in different directions: Rupert and the two cousins towards Madam Malkin's, Fred and his group to Gringotts, and Ginny with Connor and the rest to Flourish and Blotts.

Diagon Alley was particularly busy today; the book lists had been a little later in arriving than in years past, so many parents were hurrying around with their children. Connor saw a lot of friends from school, but did not have the time to stop and chat as they passed with smiles and waves before being shunted off by their parents.

Flourish and Blotts was especially busy, but luckily the clerks had had the foresight to prepare in advance. They had obviously been busy before opening, gathering bundles of books so that the tables leading to the counters carried stacks of texts which were already prepared for the first and second year students. Opposite those tables were others that held all of the elective books that the students would need, sorted by student year.

Everyone grabbed the books they needed, while George and Ginny joined the queue to pay.

"Auntie Ginny," Victoria said when they entered and saw the long line. "Could we go and look at some of the other books while you and Uncle George wait in line? I want to find a book about Sensory Charms."

"I want to find the newest edition of Quidditch Monthly," Connor added.

"I could use an advanced charms…"Zack began to add.

"Go!" George laughed. "We know when we're outnumbered. Just keep an eye on the queue so that you know when to come back."

The kids all scattered to different corners of the shop, though Quentin followed Connor straight to the Quidditch area.

They stood for a while, perusing the different monthly magazines, choosing a few each to add to their purchases, quickly joining the others in line when they realized that it was almost their turn at the counter. Each of the kids paid for their books, and Ginny and George tried to herd them all out of the shop through the thick crowd.

They had almost reached the door when Connor froze in his tracks. He spun suddenly, taking George by surprise, and whispered urgently, "The girl!" while pointing at a little witch no older than Adam.

George turned his head just in time to see a corpulent wizard stumble and fall into a bookcase, which began to wobble dangerously. Pivoting on his heel, George wheeled around and had just enough time to bend his body over the girl, shielding her from a rain of heavy volumes from the top two shelves of the bookcase she was standing beside.

Connor winced as he watched about fifteen very thick books crash down over George's head and back while he held tight to the little witch.

The girl's mother screamed even as she jumped backward away from the avalanche of books, and every patron in the store turned to see what had happened.

By the time George stood upright and released the child, the girl's mother was hugging him tightly and thanking him for saving her daughter.

"Really," George said, shooting a look over at Connor that he couldn't really identify. "It was nothing." George shrugged off all of the thanks and congratulations on his quick thinking, and hurried to get their group out of the shop.

Connor saw an odd old witch looking at him strangely, and he wondered if she had heard him warn his uncle of the danger. He dismissed it when the woman looked away, and he followed his friends out onto the street.

"Are you all right, Uncle George?" Victoria asked him as they stepped out of the flow of foot traffic and stopped.

"Just a bit sore," George said with a smile that looked more like a grimace.

"That was quick thinking," Ginny said. "You probably saved that little girl's life."

"It was Connor that did that," George said dismissively. "I'm just glad that I was there to help. Where are we off to next?"

It was clear to Connor that his uncle was trying to take the focus off of the incident. Ginny obliged them by saying that all of the kids had grown and needed longer robes this term, so they may as well head over to Madam Malkin's.

All the kids were measured for new robes, but Victoria also disappeared into the racks of dress robes, and came back holding a set of robes in soft, shimmering gold. "For the Yule Ball," she announced. "They're holding one this year just before the Christmas holidays, and I'm old enough to attend."

"Better you than us," Connor said, wrinkling his nose.

The Yule Ball was held at Hogwarts once every three years, and was open to fourth year students and above, unless an older student invited you. Connor was relieved that the next Ball would not be held until he was in sixth year; he didn't fancy having to ask a girl out any time soon.

"I don't know, Con," Zack said with a half smile. "There are an awful lot of fourth year girls who giggle every time they see you."

"That's because he's so funny looking," George said, ruffling his nephew's hair.

From Madam Malkin's they went to The Raven's Wing to buy parchment and quills and all of the other required supplies that the kids would to need to complete their assignments, and then the last stop was the apothecary for basic potion ingredients.

Once they were done there, the kids all begged to be free to go off on their own for while.

"I don't know," Ginny teased, looking indecisive. "What do you think George?"

"Please Uncle George!" Connor and Victoria begged playfully, while the others looked on eagerly.

"I don't see why not," George conceded, looking amused.

"All right, kids," Ginny said, handing Connor a small sack of coins from her pocket. "You've got an hour until you need to be at the Leaky Cauldron. Don't make us come looking for you."

With a whoop, they took off, and Connor grinned at them all. "Where should we go first?"

"I need to go to the pet shop to buy some owl treats for Godric," Zack said. "Why don't we get that out of the way first?"

"Thanks, guys, but I see some of my friends, so I'll see you in an hour," Victoria said, waving to a couple of witches. She went to join her friends, leaving Connor and other to their own devices.

"The Magical Menagerie is just down this way," Ivy said. "They'll have your owl treats."

Agreed, they entered the noisy shop, which was slightly crowded with students lucky enough to be getting a new owl of their own. Owls were fairly expensive, so most of the students tended to use the school owls for post. Most families kept an owl as well, for everyday matters, though there were also Owl Post Offices in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and a few other places around Britain.

Zack studied the different types of treats while Rachel and Ivy cooed over a litter of Kneazle kittens that were just barely old enough to go to new homes.

"My mum used to have an enormous Kneazle before I was born," Rachel said, scratching a fluffy grey one under the chin. "After he died, Dad said that she couldn't bear to have another one around, because it just couldn't replace Crookshanks."

"Don't you have any pets at your house?" Ivy asked.

"Just the owls that Dad keeps for business," Rachel shrugged. "Prue wanted a Puffskein, but after the one that Uncle George gave Adam last Christmas, they won't let her."

"Can you blame them?" Connor asked with a revolted look on his face. "I swear Snowball is going to end up just swallowing Adam whole in the middle of the night."

"I wonder if my father would mind if I brought home a pup," Quentin said, chuckling as a Krup puppy grabbed a hold of his sleeve and began to tug. "I wouldn't be able to keep it at Hogwarts, so I suppose not."

Connor wandered up and down the isles of the store and admired the different types of animals as he waited for Zack. He was just watching a tank full of multi-coloured Streelers oozing about their enclosure, when he felt someone grab his arm.

"Here now." It was the witch that Connor had noticed looking at him in Flourish and Blotts. "Aren't you Harry Potter's son?"

"Er," Connor said, taken aback. "Yes. I mean, I am."

"Thought so," she nodded, still holding onto his arm. "I wonder if you could help me."

Connor eyed her warily. "What kind of help?"

"There's this tournament coming up, you see. The Gobstones Championship match!" she said excitedly. "I'm prepared to offer you fifty Galleons for a little hint as to who might take all at the end of it."

_Fifty Galleons_? Connor thought to himself, amazed. _For Gobstones_? That was a lot of money, but Connor didn't really need to think about it. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling his arm out of her grasp. "I can't help you."

"A hundred Galleons, then!" she said, gripping his arm once more.

Connor was surprised. This woman looked to be close to a hundred years old, but had a very firm grip and a steely glint in her eye. He was sorely tempted to take the money and make up an answer, just to teach her a lesson, but knew that he couldn't. If his mother found out, there would be the devil to pay, and if by some strange chance he guessed the winner correctly, he'd have a whole other problem to worry about: people just like this woman would constantly hound him.

"Look, I can't help you," Connor said firmly. He couldn't bring himself to be very harsh with the woman; his parents had ingrained respect for his elders in him too strongly for that. "It doesn't work that way. I can't just ask my mind to supply me with answers about the future. It just comes to me or it doesn't, but I can't _make_ it." He tried to sound apologetic.

The old woman stared hard at him for a moment, and then said something that sounded like, "Bah! Little brat!" Then she turned and left him standing there alone.

"Hey," Zack's voice sounded over his shoulder. Connor turned and saw that he had a small bag in hand, bearing the shop's label. "A hundred Galleons, huh?"

"Yeah," Connor sighed.

"You should have just taken it. That would have shown her," Zack said.

"I almost did," Connor said, not liking to admit how strong the urge had been. "But if I had guessed right…." He let the rest of his sentence hang, knowing that Zack would understand.

"Lets get out of here," Zack said. "We've only got about forty-five minutes left, and I want to get to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes before we have to meet everyone."

They met the others in front of the pet shop and walked through the crowds to Fred and George's shop. It was busy inside, with lots of kids stocking up on joke items before the school year began, and parents who stood indulgently rolling their eyes or looking disapproving at their kids' purchases. There were three people behind the counter, ringing up merchandise and taking coins. Connor also spotted his grandmother Molly helping customers find what they were looking for.

Connor grinned when she waved to him, and so did his friends, before slipping off to fill their shopping baskets.

It didn't take long for Connor to notice his father, standing against the wall, surrounded by bags and parcels of every shape and size, looking mildly annoyed. Looking around, he spotted Maggie, Patrick and Rupert shopping as well, though why Patrick would need to shop here when his father was one of the owners was beyond him. Charlie was standing very close to Rupert and was whispering something in his ear that the boy apparently didn't like, because he was scowling deeply.

"Hey, Dad!" Connor went to stand beside his father. "Did you finish getting everyone's stuff already?"

"Pretty much," his dad answered. "How about you?"

"Yep," Connor said. "Just the good stuff left to buy now."

"Oh?" Harry arched his eyebrow at his son in query.

"Sweets," Connor said happily.

"Aren't you going to stock up here, too?" Harry asked.

"I'm still pretty well stocked," Connor confided. "Plus I get Hogsmeade visits this year, so I can always hit Zonko's if I need anything. Still, it couldn't hurt to look around."

His uncles had bought Zonko's joke shop in Hogsmeade about ten years before, when old man Zonko was ready to retire. They still carried all of the same merchandise that old Mr Zonko had always stocked, with a few of their own best-selling items thrown in as well. They had never changed the name of the Hogsmeade shop - a tribute to the man whose goods had aided them in their pranks so often in their youth.

Connor strolled around, looking in his friend's baskets out of curiosity, and then approached Rupert, who was carrying a very full and heavy-looking basket. It was filled with some of the most dangerous items Weasley's Wizard Wheezes offered, and Connor couldn't help but think that if Rupert weren't careful, he would be making a few enemies this year with malicious pranks.

Moving toward the back of the shop, Connor spied Maggie again, this time talking to Rachel in what appeared to be a very serious conversation. Maggie was red in the face, and he became concerned enough to try to find out what was wrong.

"Hey, Maggie-May," Connor greeted her with his favourite nickname. "You look upset."

"It's Rupert," Rachel said, immediately drawing him in to their discussion.

"What a vile little worm!" Maggie fumed.

Connor was not really surprised that Maggie had not taken a liking to the other boy. Maggie had always been quick to indignation if the situation warranted it, and Rupert wasn't about to win any prizes for congeniality. "What has he said now?" Connor asked.

"Oh, what he's _said_ isn't the worst of it!" Maggie hissed. "I've never met such a rude, unfeeling slob! He's been pushing people out of the way all morning and demanding that Uncle Harry buy him 'only the best'. He practically threw a tantrum when he wasn't allowed silk school robes! Silk! Can you imagine? He even punched Patrick when Daddy and Uncle Harry had their backs turned, and kept knocking into him on purpose and then saying, '_Oh, sorry_' in that snotty little voice of his."

"I can't believe that my dad, or yours, would let him get away with that!" Connor objected.

"Well, it took them a while, because the little toe rag was sneaky about it," Maggie said, "but my dad finally caught him at it and took him outside for a little talk."

"Did that help?" Rachel asked, looking concerned.

"A bit," Maggie admitted. "And then Patrick reminded the little worm that he would have a wand soon, and there wouldn't be anyone's parents around to cry to when he came to pay him back."

Connor grinned.

"And then!" Maggie started off again. "Then Uncle Harry caught the little sneak _stealing_!"

This was too much.

"What did he steal?" Rachel and Connor asked at the same time.

"What _didn't_ he try to steal?" Maggie said with disdain. "Every time one of us turned around, we'd catch him slipping stuff into his pockets under the cloak! At Madam Malkin's it was some cufflinks, at Flourish and Blotts it was a pocket diary, at the apothecary it was a box of dried newts… it just went on and on! It got so bad that Dad or Uncle Harry were actually searching him for stolen stuff after each stop, until Patrick came up with the idea of just sealing his pockets closed with a charm."

"He didn't look too happy when I saw him just now," Connor said. "If any kid was going to steal anything, this would probably be the most tempting shop to try it in."

Once his friends had finished at the joke shop, they hurried to the sweet shop a few doors down from the Leaky Cauldron, and left it a few Galleons poorer, but much happier.

Lunch was a noisy affair, and they were given a long table in a private dining room, as it was the only way to accommodate all eighteen of them. Connor wasn't at all surprised to see that Maggie and Patrick chose seats as far away from Rupert as possible. Connor chose a seat next to Rupert, not wanting to make any of his friends have to endure him through the meal. His parents were sitting across from him, and his mother winked at him as a signal that his kindness had not gone unnoticed. Rupert was still scowling deeply, but Connor ignored it as best he could while they placed their orders.

Everyone else seemed happy enough. Patrick was happily showing off his new wand to his father and cousins, and talking to them excitedly about all of his other purchases. Victoria was telling Charlie about the falling books and the little girl from earlier. Fred's son, Jarod, and Quentin were talking about the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts that would need to be held to keep the first and reserve teams full. Connor didn't even realize he had been scratching quite busily at his hands until his mother reached across the table to grab his left wrist and examined his now-red skin.

"They're still bothering you?" she asked, frowning at the welts he had raised with his fingernails.

"I guess," Connor shrugged. "They kind of itch all the time."

By now Harry was frowning too, and leaned over to look at his hands as well. "Is it just the tops of your hands?"

"Not really," Connor said, feeling embarrassed to have his mum and dad make such a fuss. "Just pretty much all over. That cream Mum put on them the other night helped, though."

"Let's put some more on tonight," Ginny said, releasing his arm. "I don't see anything wrong with them, so it might be just an allergy like you said. If they keep itching when you get to school, go and see Madam Cosgrove."

Connor nodded, and changed the subject by turning to Rupert, who was a little left out, being on the end of the table.

"How do you like Diagon Alley, Rupert?" he asked. He felt that this would be a safe subject; since he had liked enough of the things he saw to try to steal them. Connor didn't mention that fact though.

"It's pretty interesting," Rupert conceded. "I might have liked it better if I had been allowed to have a say in how your father spent my money."

Connor blinked. "Pardon?"

"Your father kept buying me second rate equipment everywhere we went," Rupert said scathingly.

Connor glanced at his father, who seemed to be grinding his teeth.

"I saw how everyone was treating him everywhere we went; asking for autographs and all. They would have just _given_ him anything he asked for, but he just shook his head and said that it wasn't necessary. _Not Necessary_! He could have saved me a load of money! Then he made me get a _pewter_ cauldron, when I clearly said that I wanted at silver one," Rupert continued.

"Your list says pewter," Harry said as calmly as he could. "A silver cauldron is only used in advanced…."

"He wouldn't buy me silk robes, and forced me to take what everyone else was getting," Rupert voiced his complaints right over top of Harry's voice. "And he wouldn't let me buy the one extra book I really wanted at the book shop."

"That book was far too advanced for a first year. Most seventh year students would not have been able to…." Harry began only to be interrupted again.

"And he wouldn't let me buy an owl!" Rupert said triumphantly.

"Oi!" Connor swivelled his head to see that it had been Uncle Fred who had spoken. He looked angry, which was an odd expression on his usually cheerful face. "I don't care who you are or who you think you are, but around here, you don't interrupt an adult who is speaking to you."

Rupert stared at Fred open-mouthed, then over to Charlie. Connor wondered if Fred's tone was reminiscent of the one Charlie had used in his 'talk' earlier.

When Rupert didn't respond right away, Fred prompted, "This is the part where you apologize for being rude to the Harry."

"I beg your pardon," Rupert ground out through gritted teeth, face red. "I was only trying to point out that it is my money that is being spent, and I should not have to listen to anyone telling me how to spend it as long as I get the stuff on my list."

"Rupert," Connor said quietly. "Silk robes are very expensive. It would probably have used up most of your school money to buy them."

"And we bought you one set of silk robes for those times when your school robes are not appropriate," Harry pointed out. "Though wool would have been more practical for the climate."

"What about that book?" Rupert persisted, not willing to let the subject drop.

"The book you wanted cost nearly fifteen galleons, and had an age restriction on it, so that anyone under the age of seventeen would need express adult permission to purchase it. Some of the spells in that book could have caused serious damage if done incorrectly. You may be ready for a book like that in few years, but not now."

"And the owl?" Rupert insisted on maintaining his petulant air. "I think that if my father knew how I was being treated, and how you were spending my money, he'd be furious."

"First of all," Harry said in a dangerously pleasant voice. He was now leaning across the table toward Rupert with a serious expression. "Your father hates owls. He tried to poison my owl twice while I lived with your grandparents, and was constantly trying to injure her. How do you think he would react if I let you buy one, and you took it home over the holidays? I told you that if you wrote to your father and he gave his permission, I would get you an owl."

Rupert was very red in the face by now. "My father would never try to kill my owl, or anyone else's."

"If that's what you believe, then write to him for permission," Harry said. "As for the way you think we've been treating you, feel free to write and tell him about that, too. Ginny and I have taken you into our home and done our best to answer any questions you've had, and we have done what we can to make you feel welcome. In return, you have been by turns rude, mean-spirited, tactless and ill-tempered. If you write to tell your father how unhappy you are, I can tell you right now that he'll be _delighted_. He was counting on the fact that you would spend a few days with us and then beg to go home. He absolutely believes that you'll quit, and come home and attend Smeltings like they had planned all along. _That's what he wants_. He wants to be able to say, 'I told you so.' So you need to think long and hard in the next few days whether or not you feel you can make it in the magical world, because, frankly, I have my doubts. You've done very little but complain about how everything displeases you in some way, and if that's the way you really feel, you're going to be very unhappy in our world."

Connor was somewhat dazed by this speech from his father. Harry had not raised his voice even once, but it could not have been clearer that Rupert had heard every word that was said to him. So had everyone else at the table. Those who were not gaping like fish at the stern words from the normally jovial, even-tempered Harry Potter were looking on in approval - they all privately agreed that it was time Rupert was taken down a peg or two. Connor looked to his Mum, and saw that she looked slightly troubled, but he couldn't be sure if it was because of what his Dad had just said, or because Rupert looked very much as though he might cry.

Just then, the doors to their dining room flew open, and their food arrived, making a welcome break in the tension. Connor watched out of the corner of his eye as Rupert rubbed his sleeve across his eyes, and then stared at his plate, unseeingly. The others did their best to enjoy the meal as if the scene with Rupert had not taken place, and soon they were leaving in small family groups to return to their homes.

"Did everyone get their shopping done?" Ginny asked brusquely as they stood from the table and gathered the many parcels that they had set against the far wall. "Any other stops to make before we go home?"

No one could think of anything they had forgotten, and so they returned to Potter Headquarters.

Rupert stumbled out of the Floo; just as black as when he had arrived at Diagon Alley, but made no comment about it. He simply said, "I'd like to wash up and rest now." He walked away, and Connor could hear him climbing the stairs, and a door closing from above.

Connor wondered if Rupert would really quit and go live out his life as a Muggle, or if he would stay and try to be what he was born to be.


	4. Chapter Four The Trip to Hogwarts

**Chapter Four – The Trip to Hogwarts**

_**"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves." – William Shakespeare**_

The following day turned out to be as cold and overcast as the previous day had been warm and sunny. Dark clouds seemed to be gathering for a storm, and so the kids stayed indoors and sprawled in chairs or on the floor of the living room, reading from the many books and magazines that they purchased in Diagon Alley. Every once in a while, one of them would read out some fact or point of interest, but for the most part it was very quiet. Even Rupert had joined them; he was sitting in a corner armchair, looking subdued and tired.

"It says here that a man dressed up like a witch tried out for the Holyhead Harpies this week," Connor said with amusement. He was reading one of the Quidditch magazines he had bought the day before. "He didn't make the team."

The others chuckled appreciatively. The Holyhead Harpies was the only team in the league that only took female players.

Adam and Ian had stayed overnight at their Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron's house, and had yet to return. Connor knew his father had gone in to work, and had spied him carrying Quentin's broom with him when he left, though he didn't mention this fact to his friend. Ginny was in the kitchen making bread "the Muggle way," and seemed to enjoy kneading the dough over and over while she hummed tunelessly. Overall, Connor found it a very pleasant way to spend the day. He could hear the wind chimes that Lucy had made last spring tinkling in the breeze that was stirring up the air outside, and knew that it would probably rain before midday.

"Did you know that the very first Muggleborn witches and wizards had to have the little fingers of their left hand cut off at the first sign of magical ability?" Zack asked, looking up from his book.

"Why would they want to go an do a thing like that?" Connor asked. He looked at the cover of the book that Zack was reading: _What Do Purebloods Know_?

"Apparently, it was to identify them," Zack said, consulting the book. "They thought that pureblood wizards were stronger than those of 'diluted magical ancestry.' A pureblooded wizard was more highly sought after for employment of any type, and received honours and was given social standings far above those who could not prove that their ancestors had not brought any non-magical blood into their family lines."

"That's nuts!" Connor exclaimed.

"I hope they at least used a severing charm," Rachel said with her usual pragmatism.

"Sorry." Zack grinned. "Had to be done with a stone knife."

"Eew," Ivy said without looking up from her new spell book. "Gross."

They all lapsed into silence again.

The storm finally broke just after lunchtime, with claps of thunder and spears of lightning.

Connor wandered to the window to watch. Only four days left until they would be on their way back to Hogwarts. He was looking forward to it, but knew he was going to miss being home. After the harsh words his father had has with the younger boy the day before, he wondered if Rupert would be going with them. Rupert had been surly when they'd arrived back from Diagon Alley, and had gone to bed early in order to "think about stuff."

It was late afternoon when there was loud crack outside that was not quite like thunder. A few moments later, there was a knock on the front door, and surprisingly, Ivy jumped up to answer it. Ginny came out of the kitchen with a curious expression on her face, while wiping her hands on an apron. Connor jumped up and looked out the front window to see a funny little orange car sitting in the garden, and a wizard with a large square basket in his hands.

Ivy flung the door open, and the wizard tipped his hat and announced, "Delivery for Miss Ivy Longbottom!"

"That's me!" she answered breathlessly.

"Sign here, please, Miss." The wizard presented her with a clipboard. Ivy signed her name on the slip it held and then took the basket with an ecstatic thank you.

The wizard ran back through the rain and got into the little orange car, which was gone an instant later.

Ivy set the basket on the table as everyone watched, and opened a little door in it. She reached inside and cooed, "Hello, precious!" When she pulled her hand back out, she was cradling a black and white fur ball in her hands, that mewed pitifully for a moment, then began to purr when she stroked it gently.

"Oh it's so cute!" Rachel cried, going to Ivy's side at once to see the new arrival.

"Who sent you a kneazle?" Ginny asked, smiling indulgently.

"I fell in love with her yesterday and wrote to my parents right away to ask if I could buy her," Ivy said, eyes glowing with joy. "Dad sent payment in by owl and asked them to deliver her here. Isn't she sweet?"

"I'm allergic to cats," Rupert announced.

"It's not a cat, it's a kneazle," Ivy corrected. "They're much smarter than ordinary cats and live much longer. Don't worry, I'll keep her away from you."

Connor grinned at the puffball, and scratched it's head with one finger, and asked, "What will you name her?"

"Circe," Ivy announced at once. She had evidently given this some thought since yesterday. Circe began to purr very loudly in approval.

"Oh, that's real original," Quentin muttered, but smiled a bit when Circe batted at Ivy's hair with her paw. "My mother has a kneazle. It hates me."

The rain, it seemed, had decided to stay for the next two days, and the kids were basically stuck indoors. Connor's Aunt Susan had come over to help Ginny prepare the little schoolhouse behind the Potter home for the beginning of the term. Pre-Hogwarts magical children would spend the next school year Flooing there daily for basic education. The kids lent a hand, hanging posters and straightening books and such, but they bored of it quickly.

Clive had come on Wednesday afternoon for their final session together and had given Connor a parting gift: a small glass ball about the size of a Snitch, charmed to look as though it contained a bit of the summer sky within, to help him with visualization when he got back to school.

"It's a tool to help with visualization once you get back to school," Clive explained. "You might not always have the opportunity to close your eyes and occlude when you need to. I think your teachers would probably end up thinking you were sleeping through your lessons."

Connor thought it sounded a little silly, but smiled politely, and said "Thanks," before putting it in his pocket.

Lucy, Prue and Gwen came over on Thursday when Hermione Flooed over to say that she had an appointment. Ian and Adam joined them in a game of hide and seek that had them all trying to squeeze into bizarre places around the house. Ginny chased more than one of them out of the cabinet of the huge grandfather clock in the parlour.

After she found Gwen and Adam tied up back to back in the pantry, Ginny called a halt to whatever game it was that had caused clothesline to become necessary, then set them all to rolling out cookie dough and cutting it out into the shapes of unicorns, lions, broomsticks and cauldrons.

Rupert remained quiet and moody, but finally let Quentin try to teach him how to play chess. Connor and Ivy set up a board next to theirs, and played their own game, while keeping an eye on how well Rupert was doing. He actually caught on very quickly, much to their surprise, and seemed to enjoy the challenge. Rachel and Zack seemed to content to spend the days before school trying to read as much of their textbooks as possible.

On Friday, the sun came out again, and all of the kids went outdoors to stretch their legs after being cooped up. Connor wanted to ride broomsticks, but his father had left for work without returning the ones he had been working on, and his mum refused to let them go into the basement to retrieve them.

"Merlin knows what your Dad's done to those broomsticks!" she told them. "There's no way I'm letting any of you near them until I'm sure they're safe!"

Instead, they ended up taking a long walk over the fields and along the stream where they had spent the day before. Rupert said that he didn't want to go, and had apparently not made the mistake of complaining again, since he was not doing any chores when they returned.

By dinnertime, Rupert was looking ill tempered again, and refused to join into any type of conversation around the table during the meal. It wasn't until he finished eating and left the table without a word to anyone that Harry shed light on the mood change.

"Rupert wrote home to ask his father if he could have an owl," he explained. "He didn't get the answer he was hoping for. His father also told him that he couldn't come home before term started unless he was planning on staying home."

"He wanted to go home?" Ivy asked with a pitying look. She was trying to hide the fact that she was feeding scraps of her chicken off her plate to the kitten in her lap, but no one was fooled.

"I think he's a bit homesick," Ginny said sympathetically. "He wanted to go and talk to them and tell them about things before he left for Hogwarts. Try to get them to understand."

"And they said _no_?" Zack asked, appalled.

"I'm afraid so," Harry replied sadly. "Dudley was raised his whole life being taught to hate anything magical, and now he isn't sure how to feel about his own son. They said that they would see him at Christmas, and that hopefully he will have come to his senses by then."

"That's pretty harsh," Quentin commented. "I mean, I don't like him much, but his own family treating him like that? That just seems wrong."

"Still," Rachel said, "they _are_ letting him go to Hogwarts, and they did pay for his school things. Maybe when he can actually prove to them that he's learning worthwhile stuff, they'll be easier with him about it."

"Maybe," Harry answered.

Connor did not think that his dad sounded convinced.

Saturday was a flurry of activity at the Potter house. They would be leaving for Hogwarts in the morning, and there was a lot to be done: Ginny was doing load after load of laundry, making sure that all of the kids had everything that they needed; Dobby split his day between baking snacks for the kids to take on the train and ironing and folding robes for six children. Connor saw his mother rescuing Dobby from Ian's room twice, where Rupert was trying to get the elf to do all of his packing for him.

Rupert was angry that he was going to be forced to leave a large portion of his belongings behind to make room in his trunk for his school supplies. Connor gave him a box to pack the things that would not fit into his trunk, and told him that his parents would see that it was all sent back to his house. Rupert had snatched the box from Connor and snarled at him before slamming the bedroom door in his face.

"The sooner we get to Hogwarts, the better," Connor murmured darkly to the empty hallway. "Another couple of days with him, and I'd be on my way to Azkaban!"

Everyone gathered all of their books from around the house, and made sure that the homework they had all done over the summer was in their trunks. Connor double and triple-checked to make sure that he had the Marauders' Map safely hidden in his History of Magic textbook and dumped his supply of sweets into his cauldron for safe-keeping. Zack cleaned out Godric's cage as the owl sat perched regally on the rail of the bunk bed and watched him as though supervising the activity. Ivy had been keeping her new kitten in the pocket of her robes, and every time Rupert sneezed, he would glare at her accusingly. Circe was content to stay hidden away. Ginny had rescued the kitten once from a fiercely growling Snowball, and Connor shuddered to think what the mutant Puffskein might have done to the tiny kitten without the timely intervention. He was frankly surprised that Snowball hadn't eaten Adam's other Puffskeins already, and thought that it was probably just a matter of time.

Connor was relieved when his father arrived home that evening just in time for dinner. Quentin had been fretting over his broomstick for the past few hours and wanted to know if he would need a new one for the coming year.

"Harry, for Merlin's sake!" Ginny scolded him. "Give the poor kids their brooms back!"

Harry had gone down to the basement and returned with everyone's broomsticks, and Quentin was weak with relief to see that his looked identical to the way it had when he had last seen it.

"Wait a minute," Ivy said, grabbing the handle of the Windblazer. "What's this?"

She pointed to the silver inlaid lettering that spelled out the name of the broom, and Quentin noticed that there was additional lettering below it. "Improved by the makers of Dog Star," he read aloud.

"You'll love it," Harry grinned excitedly. "Just be careful the first time you take her up."

"What did you do?" Ginny asked with narrowed eyes.

"Just improved it a bit," Harry said innocently. "Much more responsive now. Ivy's and Zack's too."

Quentin looked uncertainly at his broom, but went to pack it away in his trunk; there was no time to test it before they got to Hogwarts. Ivy and Zack simply grinned at each other and followed him up the stairs.

Dinner was a noisy affair. Everyone seemed to have something to say, knowing that this would be their last real chance to talk over a meal like this for a few months. Topics ranged from the little school that Ginny ran with Percy's wife in the building behind the Potters' house, to whether or not Professor Snape had shaved off his sinister-looking goatee yet. Rupert sat through the meal looking grumpy and added very little to the conversation, except to say inane things like "pass the salt", and "please" when everyone stopped to stare at him. They all made an early night of it, knowing that the next day would be a long and busy one.

Connor was climbing the stairs with his arms full of freshly matched socks and a few last minute items he needed to pack when he heard his father talking to Rupert.

"Have you decided if you're going to go to school with the others, or if you're going home?" he heard his father ask the other boy.

"I'm going to school," came Rupert's answer, sounding a bit defiant and sullen at the same time.

"Good," Harry replied. "I think it will do you some good."

Connor stood aside to let his father pass him on the stairs, smiling as his dad winked at him.

In his room, Connor dumped his socks and other things in his trunk, leaving out a fresh change of Muggle clothes for the morning. Zack had finished packing for the most part and was sprawled on his bed in his pyjamas, reading Connor's copy of Quidditch Monthly. Quentin had stayed downstairs to Floo his parents, in case he missed them tomorrow before getting on the train.

"Looks like Rupert's decided to give Hogwarts a try," Connor told Zack, sitting down on Quentin's bed so that he could see him properly.

Zack's hair, tied back in a leather strip, was long once more -- Ivy and Rachel had finally convinced him to let them use their prank potion on him. Connor had been treated to a momentary display of Zack with long, cherry-red corkscrew curls cascading down his back before Zack, groaning with horror, had gone to wash with the antidote shampoo. The curls had gone, but the long hair remained. Connor could see how this potion had become so popular with girls at Hogwarts -- you could wear short hair one day and long hair the next.

"I knew he would," Zack said, sitting up and abandoning the magazine. "There's just no way he could see everything he's seen over the past week and not want to _know_. I had hardly seen a hint of what he's seen before I knew, and I couldn't wait to try some if for myself."

"No offence," Connor said, nodding at Zack's observation, "but I couldn't imagine ever having to live like a Muggle. I don't know how they cope without magic at all."

Quentin came in then, and began to change into his pyjamas, yawning. "I can't believe the summer is over already," he said.

Connor got up from his bed and began to change as well. He had just climbed into his own bed when there was a soft knock on the door, and his mum poked her head in.

"All right, boys?" she asked quietly.

"All right, Mum," Connor answered.

"I just came from talking to the girls, and I wanted to talk to you for a minute as well," she said, coming in and standing at the foot of their beds.

"What's up?" Connor asked.

"I just wanted to say that I know that having Rupert here and having us ask you to include him wasn't exactly how you pictured your last week of summer," she said. "And I wanted to say thank you to all of you for making the effort. I know it wasn't very easy."

"That's okay, Mrs Potter," Zack said from his top bunk.

Quentin and Connor nodded in agreement. It was hard to be cross with Ginny, when she always seemed to be going out of her way to be nice and to give them space to be themselves together.

"You guys are pretty great," she told them fondly. "And Mr Potter and I wanted to reward you for your efforts."

She held out her hands, and passed each of them a small black box. When they each opened the hinged lid, they all grinned to see cloak pins inside-- a red enamelled shield, with a gold Gryffindor lion on the front. They weren't especially fancy or expensive, but they were very nice. With each of them having one, it was kind of like belonging to their own little club.

"Thank you, Mrs Potter," Zack and Quentin said together.

"Thanks, Mum," Connor said happily.

"You all have shown a real Gryffindor attitude this summer," she answered. "You deserve it. Lights out now."

She turned out the lights on her way out of the room, and the boys lay in the dark for a while before Quentin said into the darkness, "Connor?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm in love with your Mum." He laughed when Connor hit him in the face with his pillow, and they all said good night to each other with amusement in their voices.

The next morning, Connor woke up feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. He had not had an easy time of falling asleep, and he guessed it was excitement that had kept him awake. Tonight they would be back at Hogwarts, in their familiar dorm room, and they would see all of their friends again. He would get to use his wand again! That was definitely the best part. A glance at his bedside clock told him that it was already nine o'clock. His heart jumped into overtime. How had it gotten to be so late? A quick look told him that Quentin and Zack were already awake and dressed, so Connor stumbled quickly from his bed and was grateful to find the bathroom empty. He showered, the hot water helping to wake him up a bit.

When he got back to his room, he found that his trunk, as well as his friends' trunks and Godric and his cage, had all been taken from the room. Connor's clothes were laid out on his bed, so he quickly dressed and bounded down the stairs.

Rachel and Ivy were sitting at the bottom of the steps, teasing Circe with a length of string, and he bid them good morning before squeezing past them into the kitchen. Rupert was not at the table, but everyone else was. Connor stopped at the stove to scoop up a bowl of porridge and drowned it with a liberal amount of honey before carrying it to the table and sitting next to his father.

"Finally decided to join the land of the living, eh?" his father teased.

"Why didn't anyone wake me?" he complained, taking a huge bite.

"Both Zack and me tried," Quentin said from across the table. "You wouldn't budge."

"You're lucky you got up when you did," his dad replied. "Your Mum was about to let Adam wake you."

"Lucky me," Connor said. Adam probably would have done the deed with freezing cold water or, worse, by shoving that Puffskein up his pyjamas leg.

"Mr Potter," Quentin asked, finishing his breakfast, "how are we getting to King's Cross?"

"I've got a car," Harry replied.

"Isn't it about an hour from here to London?" Quentin asked, sounding concerned.

"If we were driving the whole way," Harry said enigmatically, rising from the table. "I'd better go light a fire under Rupert; we need to leave here in the next fifteen minutes."

"But," Quentin stammered after his retreating figure as it bounded up the stairs.

"Don't worry," Connor said. "We won't be late."

He scooped the last of his porridge from his bowl and then took his bowl to the sink.

"Dad wouldn't let you miss the train," Lucy told them, seeing a strange look pass between Quentin and Zack.

A couple of minutes later, everyone in the kitchen heard a shout of "Hey!" from Rupert at the top of the stairs. A moment later, Connor saw his dad levitating Rupert's trunk ahead of him down the stairs.

"I'm sorry, Rupert, but you've had plenty of time to pack," Harry said over his shoulder, to the blonde boy following angrily behind him. Rupert was holding some sort of strange shiny case in his hands, about the size of a small book. "Yours is the last trunk to be put in the car, and we're leaving in less than five minutes. I told you that thing wouldn't work at Hogwarts, anyway."

"He's right," Zack said to Rupert. "CDs won't play there; there's too much magical interference."

"Come on, kids!" Ginny called from the back door of the house. "We've got to get going!"

Ivy quickly slipped Circe into her basket, Zack grabbed Godric's cage from the corner, as everyone else scrambled around for jackets and satchels before hurrying out the door. Connor led his friends to a garage beside the schoolhouse that looked more like a shed, where a large vintage saloon car was parked. He looked over at Quentin and saw that the other boy looked doubtful****

"Okay, everyone. This thing is charmed to be bigger on the inside, so don't worry," Harry told them. "It's also currently a great big portkey. Once we get in, I'll trigger it, and we'll be taken to a cark park a few miles from King's Cross, and we'll drive from there."

Zack, Ivy and Quentin thanked Ginny for her hospitality and received hugs and kisses before climbing into the back seat of the car. Rupert simply said, "Good bye, then," and climbed into the passenger side of the front seat. Lucy, Ian and Adam hugged Connor, and Connor reminded the twins that hey would be making the trip with him next year. Ginny hugged him extra tightly and slipped a little pouch full of change into his pocket while Harry was busy with the car.

"Promise to be good," She told him, her eyes looking moist. "And write when you get a chance!"

"I promise, Mum," Connor said, red-faced but pleased. He climbed into the car with his friends who were all seated comfortably side by side.

They waved one last time at the Potters who were staying behind, and then Harry announced, "I'm going to trigger the Portkey now. It may feel a bit strange if you've never travelled this way before, but you'll be fine. One, two, three!" He pressed his hand into the centre of the steering wheel, and as the horn sounded, and Connor felt a strange jerk in the pit of his stomach before vanishing.

When they reappeared, Connor heard the sound of the tires making contact with pavement with a loud, barking screech as the car stopped spinning. Rupert immediately opened the passenger door and was promptly sick all over the car park where they had landed. Fortunately, there were no other people around, wizard or Muggle, to witness their arrival. Connor saw that his friends looked slightly green, but was relatively sure that it was not because of the Portkey, but because of the sound of violent retching from the front seat.

"Sorry about that," Harry apologized cheerfully as Rupert straightened.

Harry conjured a glass of water for the sick boy, and Rupert took it and rinsed his mouth before shutting the door. He made no comment about this mode of travel, but Connor could see that his jaw was clenched tightly. Harry quickly stepped from the car with his wand to clean up the mess, and erased the rubber skid marks that formed a circle around the car from their arrival. Once Harry got in and started the car, Zack was shaking his head in amusement and soothing Godric, who appeared to have disliked the Portkey experience.

They drove out of the deserted car park and were on their way. The drive only took about ten minutes, but parking was something of a chore, even with the way the car jumped to the head of any line of waiting traffic. It was half past ten by the time they were pushing their trolleys through the train station, and Connor saw that there were a few other Hogwarts students hurrying along toward the gateway to platform 9 ¾. They waited for a few other people to casually make their way through, and then Harry told Ivy and Zack to go through together, then Rachel and Quentin, and finally Connor.

Connor took the barrier at a slight run, and once on the other side of the barrier, saw that Ivy's parents had turned up to see her off on the train. Quentin was waving over at his parents, who were seeing Vanessa up into a railcar. Rachel had gone over to a large group of Weasleys, including her parents, to say her goodbyes.

Zack and Connor waited close to the barrier for Rupert and Harry. It was a few minutes before they actually came through, and Connor was considering going back to check on them. Zack pointed to them when they did come through, and Connor tried hard not to laugh to see his Dad pushing Rupert's trolley, and dragging Rupert by the collar of his shirt. Rupert himself was making a terrified mewling sound while covering his eyes with chubby hands. Connor grinned at his father, who looked both amused and exasperated as he shook his charge and told him it was safe to open his eyes.

"What took so long?" Connor asked, stepping close to his father so that Quentin wouldn't overhear. "Did it take that long to convince him he wouldn't crash into the barrier?"

"No," Harry answered quietly. "His brother Kyle turned up to see him off, actually."

"But not his parents?" Connor suddenly felt bad for Rupert.

"No," Harry said. "But that's probably for the best. I think that Kyle really cares about his brother, and wants him to do well, though, so at least he had some support from home."

Connor nodded thoughtfully at this, and scratched absently at his hands.

"Have Madam Cosgrove have a look at those when you get to school," Harry ordered, noticing the action. "It's been over a week since that started, and your Mum's worried."

Connor agreed to go to see the matron at Hogwarts, and then they were in the middle of a large group of Weasleys, and there was a flurry of hugs, kisses, handshakes and tears as the adults swept the kids up and onto the train. Connor smiled with his father slipped him a few coins and whispered, "Don't tell your Mum," before winking and stepping back away from the train, whose whistle was blowing a warning. His moneybag certainly hadn't suffered this summer; that was for sure!

Dragging his trunk along behind him, Connor followed behind Ivy as they looked for a compartment they would all fit in. They had to keep stopping so that the people ahead of them could enter compartments along the way, and Connor could hear other kids greeting each other in the cramped space. He thought he heard his cousin Patrick say, "Don't even think about it." When Connor moved down the isle, he could see that Patrick and Maggie were sitting in a compartment with some of the kids from his Mum's school who were also going to be first years this term. He nodded to them and was relieved when Rachel called over her shoulder. "Here's an empty one!"

He followed his friends in, being the last in line. Once inside, he was not pleased to find that Rupert had also followed them in, but said nothing. "Your cousins wouldn't let him in their compartment," Zack murmured as he helped Connor lift his trunk to the overhead rack.

Connor sighed quietly and took a seat between Rupert and Rachel, and across from his other friends.

The train began to move with a small lurch, and the chugging of pistons and the hissing release of steam from various valves signalled their departure. They waved out the windows of their compartment on the off-chance that their loved ones could spot them amongst the hundreds of other kids, then settled back in their seats.

"Couldn't you move over a bit?" Rupert complained almost at once. "It's too crowded in here. Do you have to take up so much space?"

Connor bit down on his tongue to keep from snapping at the other boy that there was an obvious way to make more room; Rupert could leave.

"Sorry, no," Connor said.

"Stupid way to travel, the train," Rupert commented peevishly. "I mean, if Mr Potter could make his car pop all the way to London, why couldn't he just have it pop us to Hogwarts, wherever _that_ is? Why make us endure nine hours in a scarlet tin can on rails?"

"Look," Zack said, at his wits end. "In case you haven't noticed, you're the only one with a problem here. If you don't like how crowded it is, you're free to find another compartment, okay? We all happen to _like _riding the train."

"Well, then you're mad," Rupert countered.

"You haven't seemed to realize yet," Quentin pointed out, obviously irritated as well, "there aren't any adults here to make us put up with you. If you can't find anything nice to talk about, then I suggest you don't talk at all."

Rupert let those words sink in for a moment, and then turned his head to look out of the window at the countryside they were passing through.

It was only a few minutes before the door to the compartment opened, and a couple of other Gryffindors peaked in to say hello. They looked curiously at Rupert, but no one wanted to introduce him for fear that he would be unspeakably rude to their friends. It went on like that every few minutes for the first hour, and Rupert began to snidely.

"You lot seem quite popular," he observed grudgingly.

"Oh," Ivy said, "I don't think it's that we're popular so much as it's like seeing family again. When you share living space with a group of people for a couple of years, it gets to be like that."

"We're all going to be living together in the same space?" Rupert sounded absolutely appalled by the idea.

"Well not exactly," she explained. "All first year students are divided into different houses. There are four houses, and which one you go into depends on your personality."

"Where are these houses located, and who decides which one you live in?" Rupert asked.

"Well they aren't literal houses," Rachel said. "They're more like dormitories with a large common room. You'll share a dorm room with other boys from your year. The different houses are in different parts of the castle…"

"Castle?" Rupert sounded disbelieving.

Connor looked at the others with sympathy as they all tried to explain the inner workings of the Hogwarts houses and points system. Rupert was outraged that he would have to share his living quarters with more than one other boy. He said that if he were at Smeltings, he would only have had to share with one other person. Zack told him that maybe he should have gone to Smeltings, then, shouldn't he?

Connor didn't join in with the explanations, because he was beginning to get a headache. He knew that it was the result of being around so many different people, and he hadn't had time to practice his Occlumency that morning before leaving. He was about to tune out for a few minutes and try to clear his mind, and wondered if he should dig out the little glass ball that Clive had given him at their last meeting to help him focus. He decided against it, for the simple fact that he didn't want to drag his trunk down to look for it.

"I'm going to the loo before the lunch trolley comes," Quentin announced, standing up.

He slid the compartment door open, and Connor lunged forward and grabbed the back of his friend's jumper to prevent him from stepping into the corridor.

Just as Quentin stepped backward out of reflex, two spells met in midair, right at his eye level, and caused a small explosion of sparks in every direction. There were giggles coming from other compartments, and when Quentin poked his head out with a scowl, someone called, "Oops! Sorry!"

"Thanks, Con," Quentin said. "That was close."

Connor nodded and rubbed at his temples to ease some of the pain that was beginning to build.

Quentin left the compartment, and Rupert said, "How did you know that was going to happen? You just kept him getting hit my those lights!"

"They were spells," Connor murmured absently, eyes closed. "Sometimes I just know stuff."

"Like what?" Rupert demanded.

Connor groaned inwardly at the excitement in the other boy's voice. "Just random stuff," he said evasively.

"Can I learn to do that? To predict when things are going to happen?" Rupert asked eagerly.

"Sorry," Connor replied, shaking his head. "It's not something anyone can learn."

"But then how come you know how to do it?"

"I don't know how to do it. Either stuff comes to me or it doesn't. That's why I was having extra lessons; so I could block it out." Connor explained. He desperately needed to focus.

"Why would you want to block it out?"

"Look," Connor said. "I've got a pretty big headache right now, and I just need to be quiet for a few minutes, okay?"

"Is it all the people?" Rachel asked in concern.

"I think so," Connor agreed. "Too much…mental noise around me, I guess. I just need to clear my mind for a few minutes and it will sort itself out."

She nodded, and Ivy and Zack both picked up books from their bags to occupy themselves quietly. Rupert looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but Rachel glared at him, and he turned to look out the window again.

Connor kept his eyes closed, and visualized a clear blue sky, just as Clive had taught him, and soon the buzzing in his head died down, and then disappeared. By the time he allowed the outside world to filter back in, the blue sky of his inner vision was laced liberally with many clouds; a manifestation of the distractions he was trying to keep at bay. He sighed with relief as he opened his eyes, thinking everything seemed much more peaceful now. His hands didn't even itch anymore, and he was feeling very hungry. He was surprised to see that Quentin had returned while he had been meditating, and that everyone was quietly eating Cauldron Cakes.

"How long was I out of it?" he asked, making Ivy jump.

"About a half an hour," Zack told him, handing him a cauldron cake as well. "I was starting to think you'd fallen asleep."

"Nope," Connor said, taking a bite. "Just putting my head back in order."

"So you can predict the future?" Rupert asked, as if he had just been waiting for Connor to wake up. "Can you tell who's going to win races or games?"

"Not usually," Connor said. "It doesn't really work like that."

"Can you tell me what colour socks I'm wearing right now?"

Connor bent down to tug up Rupert's pant leg and answered, "Black."

Ivy giggled.

"That's not what I meant," Rupert protested.

"You know, Rupert," Rachel said. "You want to be careful. If any of the professors catch you pestering Connor for predictions, you could get into big trouble."

"Why?" Rupert asked.

"Because for one thing, it's wrong to cheat," Connor said. "Almost everyone who's asked me to 'see' something for them wanted it for gambling. For another, if I could predict the future the way people have been asking me to, I'd never have time to do anything else. I'm not some fortune teller who can just reel off future facts for amusement and profit. Last year when the students found out about me, I even had a couple of close calls, where I was threatened if I didn't tell them what they wanted to know."

"Which is just ridiculous," Rachel added. "It's not like anyone could beat a prediction out of him, either. Anyway, if you get caught, if a huge loss of house points and a very long detention."

"Well, we're not at school yet," Rupert countered. "So I can't get in trouble yet, can I?"

Connor sighed. It looked like it was going to be a long train ride. He finished his Cauldron Cake, and accepted a bottle of pumpkin juice and one of Dobby's famous raspberry tarts from Quentin, who seemed to have a veritable feast packed in his satchel.

"So if you wanted to make a prediction on purpose," Rupert pressed, "what would you do? Would you look into a crystal ball, or go into a trance, or --"

"I'm not going to make any predictions on purpose!" Connor finally snapped angrily. He didn't understand how anyone could be as thick as Rupert was being about this subject. "Even if I could, I wouldn't want to, okay? I don't know what colour underwear you've got on, I don't know when the last of your baby teeth are going to fall out, and I don't know OR CARE if the Chudley Cannons will make it to the finals!"

"Fine!" Rupert snapped back, just as angrily. "I should have known you wouldn't want to help me! No one wants to help me!" With that extraordinary pronouncement, Rupert threw open the door, and stalked out into the corridor.

"Good riddance!" Zack said with satisfaction. "That's telling him!"

"Yeah," Connor agreed quietly. He was suddenly feeling guilty about losing his temper; especially after what his mother had said last night about being proud of him.

Rupert did not come back to the compartment, and the rest of the journey was spent in relative peace. Circe seemed to have taken a particular liking to Quentin and sat curled up on his thigh, purring contentedly in her sleep while Quentin read that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet, bought from the witch with the lunch trolley. Rachel had moved to the window seat that Rupert had vacated, and was playing a game of exploding snap with Ivy and Zack. Connor, on the other hand, closed his eyes and was soon catching up on the sleep his missed out on the night before.

"Hey, Connor!"

Connor woke with a jolt to see Zack shaking his knee lightly.

"We're almost to Hogwarts, the girls have gone to get changed," Quentin told him. "It'll only be about a half an hour, I'd reckon."

"I must have been sleepier than I thought," Connor yawned. He fished around in his trunk for his robes, and slipped them on. His stomach rumbled as he sat back down, and he looked forward to the feast.

"I wonder where Rupert spent the rest of the ride," Connor said as the girls rejoined them.

"We saw him in a compartment with some other first years," Ivy answered, making sure Circe was secure in her basket. "An unpleasant looking lot of boys."

"At least he wasn't in here pestering us," Rachel said. "It'll be a nightmare if he gets sorted into Gryffindor. Not that _that's_ likely to happen."

"Oh, I don't know," Quentin said thoughtfully. "He's not very nice, but it did take a lot of bravery to come here and all. Remember how horrid Andrew Tillman was last year? He's a Gryffindor, and we didn't like him, either."

"Yes," Ivy agreed. "But Andrew turned out to be all right. He was just being a prat because his father was so ill, and he didn't know how to handle it."

"Maybe Rupert's been acting horrible because of _his_ father," Quentin suggested logically.

"Do you _want_ him to be sorted into Gryffindor?" Zack asked.

"Of course not," Quentin answered at once. "I'm just saying that it's not totally impossible."

"What about Patrick and Maggie?" Connor asked Rachel. "Do you think they'll make Gryffindor?"

"I don't see why not. Maggie's parents were both Gryffindors and so was Uncle George. Aunt Zoë went to a private witch's school in Wales that didn't have houses, but you'd have to be brave to be married to Uncle George."

"Or crazy," Connor said, waggling his eyebrows.

The train was coming to a stop now, and the lights from Hogsmeade could be seen in the distance through their window. It was dark outside. Connor grabbed his cloak out of his trunk when he felt a blast of cold air as the train doors were opened. The others did the same, and all of them smiled at each other to see their new cloak pins in place.

"We look like some sort of secret society," Rachel observed with a chuckle.

They shifted out of their compartment, Ivy holding Circe's basket in front of her, and Zack holding Godric's cage while the owl protested loudly. As soon as they stepped down onto the platform, Zack Godric free to fly to the Owlery.

"I think he missed Hogwarts as much as we did," Zack said as he watched his owl disappear into the darkness.

The call for first year students could be heard from Professor Grubbly-Plank, who would lead them for their traditional boat ride across the lake. Connor vividly remembered his own inaugural ride; it had poured, and his boat had sprung a leak, soaking everyone even more. His shoes had squelched unpleasantly for days. At least it would be pleasant tonight --Rupert would have been complaining loudly about it for weeks.

Connor followed his friends to the line of carriages that would take them up to the castle, and cautiously reached his hand out to gently pat the invisible thestral he knew to be there between the carriage shafts.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Rachel complained. "It's creepy."

Connor just shrugged and climbed into the carriage. It was a bumpy ride, and the road seemed to have quite a few more potholes than he remembered from the previous year, but no one was complaining. Hogwarts came into view a couple of minutes after the carriages began to move in a line toward the castle, and they all looked out at it eagerly. They passed the gates, moved up to the castle, and joined the crowd of students headed for the massive oak doors that were opened wide in welcome.

"Well if it isn't little _Leo_ and his band of merry men," came the voice they all knew only too well. Vanessa Malfoy stood with a group of Slytherin girls, looking disdainfully at her brother and his friends.

"Leave us alone, Vanessa," Quentin muttered.

Fortunately, Professor Thompson was standing by the doors, supervising the mass exodus from the carriages from the higher vantage point atop the steps.

"Keep moving," he ordered mildly.

Vanessa and her group strolled casually away after a final sneer, and Connor and the others made sure they were far enough behind them that they wouldn't meet again before they got to the Great Hall. They placed Circe in her basket and Godric's empty cage in the section of the Entrance Hall where everyone else had placed their pets, then hurried into the Great Hall to get seats that faced the centre of the room, wanting the best possible view for the Sorting, and to see if anyone had really changed dramatically over the summer. Connor spotted Professor Lupin at the high table, and waved at him. Remus Lupin was Connor's honorary uncle, and Connor was happy to see him looking well and healthy so soon after a full moon.

The room was noisy and chaotic for a few minutes while everyone greeted those people they hadn't seen on the train. It settled down when Professor Thompson opened the doors to the Great Hall once again and led a line of frightened-looking first-years down the centre of the room, toward the high table. The kids were looking around them and up at the enchanted ceiling, whispering to each other in nervous and excited voices as they approached the head of the room. Professor Thompson bid them all to gather around, and face the other students, which they did, looking absolutely green.

Connor remembered that feeling well. He could effortlessly pick out Rupert from the crowd; he was easily the biggest first year in the group. He was also the unhappiest looking. Had something gone wrong already? Connor wondered what could possibly have happened between the times that they left the train until now.

Professor Thompson placed the Sorting Hat and its stool in front of the students, who stared at it expectantly. It twitched, and then a rip near the brim opened wide. The hat began to sing, and Connor watched all of the new students' faces glow with awe as the Hat sang its song. When the song finished, the hat bowed to each of the tables then fell limp.

"When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and put on the hat," said Professor Thompson after the applause had died down. "I will then call out your new house. Armstrong, Betsy!"

A small girl with long, dark plaits stepped nervously forward and put the hat on, squeaking nervously when in fell down around her eyes. The hat was silent for a moment, then called out, "Hufflepuff!"

The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers, and Betsy Armstrong took a seat there and was greeted warmly, even as the next name was called.

"Atkins, Stacy!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Barker, Michael!"

"Gryffindor!"

Connor clapped loudly with his housemates as a small boy with unnaturally white teeth joined their table, looking relieved.

"Boot, Diana!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Burns, Willem!"

"Slytherin!"

The list went on, with each house applauding their newest members. When Rupert's name was called, Connor stilled and listened carefully.

"Dursley, Rupert!"

The hat took only a few seconds to decide.

"Slytherin!"

Connor let out his breath with a _whoosh_. It was no surprise, really, that Rupert had been chosen for Slytherin. The only real obstacle was that Slytherins tended to pride purebloods over Muggleborns, but that was not a hard and fast rule, considering how few purebloods there were these days. His friends all clapped loudly at the announcement of Slytherin's newest member, earning them strange looks from the others, but they didn't care. They were celebrating the fact that he was someone else's problem now.

The list went on, and Connor heard Zack's stomach grumbling beside him. Finally the list came down to the last four students.

"Waters, Lara!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Weasley, Magnolia!"

"Magnolia?" Quentin asked with a raised eyebrow.

Maggie sat calmly on the stool and set the hat over her glossy brown curls. The hat seemed to be debating something for a while, as it had with a few of the other students, and finally made its choice.

"Hufflepuff!"

Connor was shocked for a moment and stared at the other Weasleys down the table, who all looked surprised for a moment before applauding loudly for her in support. She pulled the hat off of her head and grinned at them all before taking her place at the Hufflepuff table.

"Weasley, Patrick!"

Patrick stepped forward, looking much less confident now that Maggie had been sorted into a different house than he had supposed she would. The only other Weasleys not to go into Gryffindor before now had been Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill's kids. Sarah had left school the previous year, but Marcus was a fifth year Ravenclaw prefect this term. Patrick put the hat on his head and waited, shoulders stiff, and back poker-straight.

"Gryffindor!"

The hat had not needed much time to decide Patrick's fate, which Connor thought was a good thing, as Patrick looked as though he might faint with relief. He put the hat back on the stool and joined the Gryffindors to tumultuous applause, mainly from his own cousins.

"And last, but not least, Xanatos, Xerxes!"

"You've got to be joking!" one of the older Gryffindors muttered. "What an awful name to hang on your kid!"

"Slytherin!"

The hat made its final pronouncement and was carried away with the stool by Professor Thompson as Xerxes joined the Slytherin table.

Connor had been counting the newest students. Slytherin had gained fifteen new students, the fewest of all of the houses, with six girls and nine boys. Ravenclaw had ten new girls and seven new boys, and Hufflepuff grown by ten boys and ten girls. Gryffindor also had expanded their numbers by ten girls, but there were no less than one dozen boys added to the fold. Connor wondered if they would squeeze six boys into each dormitory. It would be a tight fit, and he hoped for their sake that they all got along with one another. Still, the castle seemed to expand when needed, so perhaps a new room had added itself in somewhere in the tower to accommodate them all.

The Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, stood and raised her hands, and silence fell immediately over the Hall.

"Welcome back, students! And welcome to our newest housemates, as well. I have a short list of announcements to make, and then I will let you get on with your meal," she said in her usual strong and commanding voice. "First, I am pleased to announce that Professor Flitwick, our Charms professor, has agreed to postpone his retirement for one final year, until his intended replacement can join us. I would ask you all to please make this year a happy and memorable one for him."

The students applauded with pleasure. Professor Flitwick was well liked by his students, and always seemed to have a cheerful disposition about him that was contagious. Zack clapped especially loudly -- Charms was his favourite subject, and he was rather fond of old Professor Flitwick.

"Yes, yes," Professor McGonagall smiled as the sound died down. "We are all very pleased by his decision. Students second year and above should note that Quidditch tryouts will begin in one week, and I believe that all four houses are in need of reserve players at the very least, so those of you interested should look for an announcement on your common room bulletin boards."

Connor's stomach was letting him know that it was ready for the feast to begin, and so he sighed with relief as the Headmistress wrapped up her speech with the annual warnings against venturing into the Forbidden Forest and using magic in the corridors. She bid them all enjoy the feast, then sat as platters and bowls of food appeared in front of them.

"Finally," Ivy moaned, reaching for the roast chicken.

"You're starving, too?" Connor asked with a smile as he heaped potatoes onto his plate.

"I didn't have anything after the Cauldron Cake on the train," she said.

After the feast, Connor followed his friends out of the Great Hall and behind a tapestry. He noticed more than ever how much he had grown over the summer, because his shoulders scraped the sides of the secret passage, and his head almost hit the ceiling -- it had originally been built for house-elves. They wouldn't be able to use this corridor so easily this year if they all kept growing like this. Zack, who was walking ahead of him, had to slouch so his head wouldn't bang on the ceiling.

They moved briskly and emerged on the sixth floor, a short way from the main staircase. No other students had reached this floor yet, but the ghost of Ravenclaw raised a translucent eyebrow at them when they appeared from behind a portrait. Connor smiled sheepishly at her, and followed the rest as they walked to the main stairs and jogged up to the seventh floor and Gryffindor Tower.

The portrait of the Fat Lady looked as though it had been cleaned over the summer, and the Lady herself seemed to be in good spirits. "Password?" she asked in a singsong voice.

"Turris Domus," Quentin announced clearly.

The portrait swung open, and they clambered through the. Connor was tired, but instead of climbing up the stairs to his room, he sank into one of the good armchairs by the fire, and his friends followed suit.

"Aren't you tired?" Rachel asked with a yawn as she crowded in next to him, squashing him up against the arm of the chair.

"Exhausted," he answered, watching as the first of the other Gryffindors climbed through the portrait hole. "But we never get the good chairs by the fire normally."

Zack chuckled, and warmed his hands by the fire. Ivy had taken an armchair opposite Connor and Rachel, and Quentin sat on the floor, near her feet.

"It's good to be back," Quentin said tiredly.

The clock on the wall struck eleven, and the common room filled up rapidly as everyone arrived. The first year students came in and looked around them in awe, then were directed to their new rooms by the prefects. Most of the students simply climbed to their dormitories, too tired to stay up and socialize when they had a full day of classes in the morning.

"We'd better go to bed," Connor said reluctantly, shoving Rachel gently to her feet so that he could stand up himself.

The boys said goodnight to the girls at the bottom of the staircases, and then climbed to their room, the door of which now bore a silver plaque that read, 'Third Year Boys: Z. Ellis, Q. Malfoy, C. Potter, A. Tillman'. They pushed the door open to see that Andrew Tillman was already in his pyjamas, and was unpacking a few things from his trunk into the small wardrobe by his bed.

"All right, Andrew?" Connor asked as he flopped down across his bed, fully clothed.

"All right," he answered. "You?"

"Good," Connor said. "How was your holiday?"

"Strange," Andrew answered.

Connor nodded. He supposed that it would have been very strange. Last April, Connor and his friends had gone on quite an adventure that had included drugging Andrew with a sleeping draught, breaking into two faculty offices, and sneaking out of the castle and into the Ministry of Magic in the middle of the night. When they got there, they had managed to free Andrew Tillman's grandmother from an incredible fate – hanging in a sort of timeless limbo, caused by a damaged time-turner. Andrew had gone home for the summer holiday to face a family that had been forever altered by the return of a woman that had been missing and presumed dead for twenty years.

"I'll bet," Connor said quietly. "How is your family doing?"

"We're all right, I reckon," Andrew answered thoughtfully. "My Granddad and Grandmother are off right now on a sort of second honeymoon to get to know each other again after all this time." Andrew had a funny sort of smile on his face as he said it, as though he was unsure how he felt about it, but was happy for them anyway. "My parents are about to do the same. My dad… he's doing much better."

"That's good," Connor said. "I'm glad."

Andrew's father had spent a lot of time in St. Mungo's last year, because everyone had thought him crazy for believing the rumors that his mother's ghost had been spotted in the Ministry.

The boys all changed into their pyjamas, cleaned their teeth and washed their faces, and when Connor finally lay in bed, he was almost too tired to practice his occlumency. Knowing that he would regret it in the morning if he neglected it, he began his visualization. He fell asleep, drifting in a blue summer sky.


	5. Chapter Five A Complicated First Day

**Chapter Five – A Complicated First Day **

_That is what learning is. You suddenly understand something you've understood your whole life, but in a new way. – __Doris Lessing _

Connor woke the next morning tired from going to bed so late the night before, but excited to start the day. Zack was already awake, his hair damp from a recent shower, and Quentin had his pillow over his head in denial that it was morning already. Andrew, it seemed, was already gone.

"Morning!" Connor called out, making Quentin moan.

"Morning," Zack answered, buttoning his shirt. "You'd better hurry if you want a shower before breakfast."

Connor took his advice and came back feeling much more refreshed.

Quentin was sitting up on the edge of his bed, but still looked as though he might fall asleep again sitting up. He managed to get to his feet, and was so groggy that he didn't even put on a dressing gown as he stumbled from the room.

Connor began to dress, telling Zack to go ahead and save him and Quentin a seat at breakfast. Connor finished dressing, and then sat on the edge of his bed, and brought up a visualization into his mind. It would definitely be a good idea to practice his Occlumency before descending into the noise of hundreds of students again.

When he opened his eyes again, Quentin was dressed, was and shoving some books into his schoolbag.

Quentin looked over at Connor. "Good, you're done," Quentin observed. "I didn't know if I should try to snap you out of it or not."

"It's probably better if you don't, but it probably wouldn't hurt me, either. I just wouldn't get the full benefit of it," Connor explained. "How long was I out?"

"I don't know when you started, but I've been back from the lavatory for about five minutes," Quentin told him, shouldering his bag. "You ready?"

"I guess," Connor said. "I don't even know what books to bring yet."

"I don't suppose we'll get into too much trouble if we don't have our books first class," Quentin said. "Unless it's Potions. I just grabbed all of my summer work and my Potions books, and we'll hope for the best."

"Good idea," Connor said. "I'll do the same."

The Great Hall was full by the time they got there, and Connor spotted Rupert sitting with a group of Slytherin's laughing over something. At least he hadn't alienated his entire house yet, Connor thought uncharitably, and sat down in one of the seats that Ivy had saved for them. Ivy handed them each a sheet of parchment, saying, "New timetables."

Connor grabbed a bun from a basket on the table and bit into it as he looked to see what his schedule was going to be like this year.

**Monday **

9:00 – 11:00 Double Potions (with Hufflepuff)

11:20 – 12:20 History of Magic

_Lunch _

1:35 – 2:35 Care of Magical Creatures (with Ravenclaw)

2:45 – 3:45 Defence Against the Dark Arts (with Slytherin)

Tuesday 

9:00 – 10:00 Transfiguration

10:10 – 11:10 Charms

11:20 – 12:20 History of Magic

_Lunch _

1:45 – 3:45 Double Herbology

Wednesday 

9:00 – 10:00 Defence Against the Dark Arts (with Slytherin)

10:10 – 12:10 Double Care of Magical Creatures (with Ravenclaw)

_Lunch _

1:45 – 2:45 Divination (with Hufflepuff)

12:00 (a.m.) - 1:00 (a.m.) - Astronomy

Thursday 

9:00 – 10:00 History of Magic

10:10 – 11:10 Herbology

11:20 – 12:20 Potions (with Hufflepuff)

_Lunch _

1:45 – 3:45 Double Charms

Friday 

9:00 – 11:00 Double Divination

11:20 – 12:20 Defence Against the Dark Arts (with Slytherin)

_Lunch _

1:45 – 3:45 Double Transfiguration

"Good thing we grabbed our Potions books," Quentin said with a groan. "Double Potions with Hufflepuff first thing, then History of Magic. Yuck. I've got Arithmancy after lunch, though," he added, brightening. "What do you guys have?"

"I've got Arithmancy, too," Ivy said.

"Zack and I have Care of Magical Creatures," Connor added with a chuckle. "Maybe Grubbly-Plank can tell me what went wrong with Snowball."

"Or at least tell you how to shrink it," Rachel suggested, wrinkling her nose. "I'm so jealous that you get to start new subjects this year. I can't wait until I can take Arithmancy! It sounds so exciting, and Mum says it was her favourite subject when she was at school."

"Uncle Bill is really good at it, too," Connor said. "He used it all the time when he was a curse-breaker."

"Damn," Quentin muttered under his breath.

"What's up?" Connor asked.

"We've got Defence Against the Dark Arts with Slytherin this year," he answered, and they all groaned.

"I don't have any classes with Slytherin this year," Rachel announced cheerfully. She turned to look reprovingly at Connor. "Connor, you need more than pastry inside of you."

"Yes, Mother," Connor gibed, spooning some eggs onto his plate and slipping an apple into his pocket for later.

They finished eating and hurried off to their first class. Connor didn't like to think how many points Professor Snape would take from Gryffindor if they were late for their first class of the term.

The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were milling in the corridor, when the door opened abruptly, and Professor Snape glared out at them all. Connor noted that, contrary to their earlier speculations, the Potions Master hadn't shaved his sinister-looking goatee, and looked just as menacing as ever.

"Find your seats quickly, and have the work I assigned you over the summer ready to be collected," he told them brusquely.

Everyone hurried inside and separated into pairs at each of the tables set up around the room. There were cauldrons set up, one to a table around the room.

Connor happily pulled out his homework parchment. Potions was one of his favourite classes, despite Professor Snape, and he enjoyed the practical lessons where they actually got to brew things. He hadn't held onto much hope that they would be doing much at their first class, so the sight of waiting cauldrons was a pleasant surprise.

Quentin had managed to snag the seat beside Connor. Zack took a place next to Andrew at the table behind them. They always tried to beat each other to the seat next to Connor, because his potions rarely went wrong: he just seemed to have a knack for the subject. Ivy paired with another Gryffindor girl; she was comfortable enough in Potions class to not want Connor as a partner.

Professor Snape moved to the front of the room and ordered one of the Hufflepuff girls to collect the homework.

As she moved around the room, the Professor began to speak. "Today we will be brewing a rather tricky potion, and so I caution all of you to pay very close attention to the ingredients and the directions. I will tolerate no clumsy oversights in my class."

Connor watched with eager anticipation as Professor Snape pointed his wand at the blackboard at the front of the room. The blackboard was immediately filled with detailed instructions in Snape's precise and neat handwriting.

"A burn salve?" Quentin read from the board.

"For magical burns," Connor said, surveying the list of ingredients.

"Ingredients are in the student cupboard. This potion takes one hour to brew, so I suggest you get started immediately."

Connor went to gather the ingredients they would need while Quentin went to collect a mortar and pestle and some sharp knives -these were kept in the classroom because if the students carried knives around in their bags, who knew what might happen? They met back at their table.

Connor set Quentin to grinding up an aloe leaf, while he set the comfrey oil over a low flame to heat.

Connor weighed and measured different herbs, carefully mincing, crushing or shredding with quick, sure movements. He set them neatly in the order in which they would need to be added to the cauldron. Soon the scent of lavender and sage was filling in the air. Connor felt confident that their potion would be finished correctly and on time.

He had just finished adding the salamander tongue, which was the last of their ingredients and Quentin had just finished adjusting the flame beneath the cauldron when Professor Snape began travelling around the room, checking everyone's progress.

Connor checked his watch, mentally marking the time, so that he would know when to douse the flames. He and Quentin seemed far ahead of the rest of the class, who were still preparing and adding their ingredients, so he read through the directions one more time to make sure that they had followed them correctly.

"We're good," he assured Quentin, who was looking at him questioningly. "It's perfect."

Quentin heaved a sigh of relief; he was always a little disconcerted when he partnered Connor and they finished so quickly. He began to clean up their work surface and took the knife and other tools to the sink to wash them.

Connor got out quill and ink for the work that Professor Snape would undoubtedly assign for them while their potions brewed the required hour.

Suddenly, Connor stiffened. He blinked against the vision that had forced itself through his guard, and suddenly discovered that he was shouting that he top of this voice. "Becky! Don't put that in your cauldron!" he bellowed, and was just about to vault himself over his own work table in a bid to get to the Hufflepuff girl at the front of the room, when Professor Snape quickly snatched the small bowl of crushed leaves that the girl had been about to dump into her cauldron.

Seeing that the crisis had been averted, Connor calmed down, trying not to make eye contact with any of the students who were now staring at him in surprise. Instead, he looked over at the professor, who was examining the leaves he had just plucked from Becky Lerner's hand.

"Miss Lerner," he said into the silence that had fallen over the room. "Do you know how to read?"

Others in the class winced at his silky tone.

"Yes, sir," Becky answered in a frightened voice.

"Would you kindly read to me, from the blackboard, the third ingredient on the list I have provided for your benefit?"

"Sage," Becky responded, looking at the blackboard and away from Snape's derisive glare.

"Sage is correct," the professor told her calmly. Too calmly. "What you have here, what you were about to add to your potion, is _yage_. Pronounced, incidentally, as ya-hay, and not even remotely similar to sage, other than its similar spelling. Do you have any idea what effect _yage_ added to this current mixture would have?"

"No Sir," Becky answered tremulously. It was obvious from her expression that she knew that, whatever it was; it wasn't going to be good.

"Mr Potter," Professor Snape snapped out, his eyes not leaving Becky's face. "Since you were the one who spotted Miss Lerner's error, perhaps you could shed light as to what would have occurred had you not intervened."

Connor shuddered a bit as he recalled his vision. "I think," Connor said, "that it would have caused a thick yellow vapour to rise from her cauldron."

"And what would this vapour have done?" Professor Snape asked, almost conversationally.

"Well, for one," Connor replied quietly, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat - he knew the first thing it would have done, because of the vision he'd seen of Becky clawing at her eyes in panic, - "It would have blinded her. And if I'm remembering my reading right, _yage_ causes intense hallucinations."

"Correct," the professor admitted, almost sourly. "In fact, in this particular mixture, it would have blinded everyone in this classroom, possibly irreversibly."

Becky's face paled, and she swayed a little on the spot. Snape's eyes travelled the classroom, making certain that each and every student understood how dire such a mistake would have been. His eyes finally settled on Connor. "The hallucinations would have been the least of our worries by the time the vapour had been inhaled. Your classmates can all thank you for their ability to continue enjoying both their eyesight and their sanity."

Becky looked like she was about to be sick, and was shaking uncontrollably.

Connor was uncomfortable with the outburst he had made and with being put on the spot. He could feel every set of eyes in the room on him, and shifted from foot to foot as he needlessly fidgeted with some parchment.

"Fifty points from Hufflepuff," the professor called out as he plucked the _yage_ from the supply cabinet and pocketed it, "for Miss Lerner's extreme lack of attention to detail and for almost seriously crippling everyone in this classroom. It will be another ten if you do not stop that crying this instant, Miss Lerner. And five points from Gryffindor for Mr Potter's outburst."

The Gryffindors looked disbelieving at this, but Connor knew that this was Snape's odd way of _rewarding_ them. It could have been a lot more points if the mistake with Becky's ingredients hadn't been so seriously dire, and Snape never awarded Gryffindor points for any reason, so by contrast, a five point deduction was as close to a reward as he would ever give.

"You should all be finished adding your ingredients to your cauldrons by this time," Professor Snape told them all five minutes later. "While your salve is simmering, you will read the chapter in your text dealing with burns and the salves used in their treatment. You will write fourteen inches on the physiological differences between magical burns and other types, and how their treatments differ. What you do not complete in class will be done for homework. Miss Lerner, I also want you to complete two feet on the inherent dangers of Yage and the effects it can have on the human body if used improperly, to be handed in on Thursday."

Connor set to work on the fourteen-inch essay, and was grateful that whispering and conversation were not tolerated in Professor Snape's classroom. He had no doubt that word would get around about his sudden inexplicable shouted warning. Even worse, it had happened on the first day of term, in the very first class. He hoped that this wasn't a sign of things to come for the rest of the year, or he might as well just hang a sign around his neck that read, 'Freak'. It had been bad enough last year when the whole school had learned of his precognitive abilities, and now he had just reminded them of that fact in a pretty spectacular fashion.

Connor checked his watch, then counted down the time for the last thirty seconds that their potion needed to boil.

When the time was up, he prodded the flames with his wand and they extinguished immediately. Quentin carefully scraped the sides of the cauldron clean and a poured the slightly runny potion through a strainer, as the directions on the black board instructed. Connor held the strainer and the glass bowl steady as the liquid trickled through, leaving behind the solids, which would be discarded.

Connor eyed the double layers of the remaining potion with satisfaction. There was two thirds more of the thick yellowish layer than the clear watery one. It was precisely how it ought to look at this stage, and Connor knew by its appearance that it would have the perfect consistency when they were done.

"Do you want to emulsify it, or do you want me to?" Connor asked, as Quentin balanced the strainer over the cauldron for cleaning.

"You'd better do it," Quentin averred. "The last time I tried it, I broke the glass. I'll go finish cleaning up."

Connor nodded and gently swirled the thick oily brew around the bowl to cool it slightly, watching to make sure it clung to the sides of the glass, as it ought to. When he was certain that it was the correct temperature, he pointed his wand straight into the bottom of the bowl, vertically, then rotated his wrist in a clockwise stirring motion before muttering, "_Pulsare_!" He watched carefully as the oil was whipped up into a frothy mixture. He ended the spell, and carefully used a glass stirring rod to stir the mixture until the foam dissipated. He jumped, startled, when he heard glass breaking across the room, but did not look up to see what had happened. He needed to concentrate on this step to make sure that he got this right. He used the spell again to whip the mixture, and was pleased to see that the froth did not form this time, and that he was left with a thick yellowish-white ointment in his bowl.

Quentin returned with the clean cauldron and strainer, and smiled when he saw Connor scooping their completed burn salve into a container.

"Top marks for us, I think," Connor smiled back, feeling confident. Quentin made a label for the container, and was about to put a rubber stopper on the ointment, when Connor's hand shot out and caught his wrist. "Not yet. Snape'll take points off of our grade if there's any condensation from steam in there. Just let it cool until he calls for the samples, and then take it up to him, without the lid on, and explain why you've left it off. It's not on the board, but it was in the book. It's a test he's using to see if we're really paying attention."

"Did you 'see' that?" Quentin whispered.

"No," Connor answered seriously. "I just know. Trust me, I've been reading up on advanced potions this summer."

Quentin nodded, not doubting his friend's word on this subject. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that Zack had overheard this, and Connor saw Zack and Andrew nodding ever so slightly to show that they had. Connor took the bowl, spatula and stirring rod over to the sink to wash, while the professor called out that they should be through with the brewing process and working on straining their potion. Ivy joined him at the sink to clean her cauldron, and Connor warned her to be careful about steam condensation, just in case she hadn't thought of it.

"By the way," she said, nodding to show she had heard the reminder. "Thanks for stopping Becky from blinding us all."

Connor turned red, and returned to his seat, where Quentin was working on their assignment. He bent over his own parchment until Snape called for them all to finish cleaning up and to bring him a sample of their finished product.

Connor nodded to Quentin to go, and listened to the exchange as Quentin explained his reason for not putting a stopper on the container. Snape simply replied, "Very well," and Connor smiled happily at the desk, knowing that no comment from the professor was the highest compliment he could make.

The fact that he didn't deduct any further points from Gryffindor for the rest of the double period was further proof of Snape's approval; they usually had at least fifteen points deducted per class. They knew that they would earn them back in Professor Lupin's class later that day anyway, since the heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor seemed to keep track of such things, and worked to balance them out in their own ways.

After class, the chatter began immediately. Only a handful of students had handed their finished salve in without a lid on, and most of those people admitted that it was because they had heard the professor's acceptance of Quentin's sample first.

Becky Lerner approached Connor timidly, and he tried to apologize for getting her in trouble, but she shook her head and suddenly threw her arms around him, tearfully thanking him for saving her from making a dreadful mistake.

Connor disentangled himself from the miserable girl, saying something he hoped was comforting, while prying her arms from around his neck. His face was beet red as he made his escape, and he ignored Zack and Quentin's teasing as they made their way toward the courtyard nearest the History of Magic classroom for break.

The air was chilly, but Connor welcomed it as it cooled his heated cheeks and dried the slight perspiration that working over the low flame in the dungeons had caused. He pulled out the apple he had pocketed at breakfast and took a large bite, savouring the sweetness.

"That was a close call," Zack said, as they stood together beside a pillar near the door. "Can you imagine what would have happened if Connor hadn't stopped Becky adding the Yage?"

"Yes," Connor agreed with a shiver, blinking to rid himself of the disturbing image. Suddenly the apple didn't taste as good, and he discarded it in a bin by the door.

"Right," Zack said, realizing that Connor didn't need to imagine it. "Sorry."

Connor scratched at his hands as they talked about the rest of the class. The breaking glass that Connor had heard while he had been emulsifying his salve had been one of the other Gryffindor pairs, who hadn't held their bowl steady while straining their potion. It had smashed on the floor, and Professor Snape hadn't even taken points from them; just told them to clean the mess up.

"He must have really been shaken by the Yage thing," Ivy said. "That bowl breaking was worth at least a ten point loss, and he didn't even say anything about it."

"Well, I'm not complaining," Quentin said. "I wonder how the Hufflepuffs are going to react when they find out about the fifty points?"

"On the first day?" Zack asked. "They'll be furious! Imagine having negative points at the end of the first day!"

"Yes," Ivy agreed. "I don't think that Professor Wexler will be willing to award any points to make up for it in this case. You know, the professors are all pretty good at evening out the points that Snape takes from all of the other houses, but you have to admit, she deserved it."

"Connor," Quentin said, "you should go and see Madam Cosgrove. You're scratching your hands raw!"

"Yeah," Connor agreed. "They're driving me crazy. I think I'll go see her tonight before dinner."

"You should just go now," Zack told him. "It's only History of Magic. Binns will never even notice you're not there."

"Zack!" Ivy chided. "It's the first class of the year! Connor really shouldn't miss it unless he has to."

"I'm all right," Connor insisted. "I can wait until later."

They made their way to the first floor and filed into the classroom. Connor didn't have his book with him and shook his head at the thoughtlessness of not running up to the tower during break to fetch it. He had his summer work with him, plus plenty of clean parchment to take notes on; he should be fine.

Connor took a seat at the back of the classroom and absently scratched at his hands again, even though, as usual, he could see nothing wrong with them - aside from the welts he had raised with his own fingernails. The itching was really maddening, and he was beginning to feel the beginnings of one of _those_ headaches coming on, the kind that told him that the distracting thoughts and feelings of the rest of the school were trying to get through the barriers he had built up that morning. It was almost as though the fluffy white clouds from his visualization had become too saturated with the images he was trying to keep out, and were raining them back into his consciousness. He was beginning to "hear" things in the back of his mind, and "know" inconsequential facts, such as Andrew's shoelace would come untied soon, or that a boy in the hall would spill ink on his trousers in his next class.

Connor rummaged in his schoolbag for parchment, quills and ink, and caught hold of something round at the bottom. He pulled it out to discover the small glass ball that Clive had given him at their last meeting, to help him with visualization once he was at school. With a shrug, Connor brought it out, knowing that if he didn't practice his Occlumency again soon, his headache would only get worse as the images pressed in on him. It was a bit troubling to know that he had only done it three hours ago, and already needed it again, but Clive had warned him. The school was full of hundreds of people, so it only made sense that the clairvoyant or psychic signals around him would intensify. It might also have something to do with the fact that one big vision had forced its way through in potions already, leaving his mental shields slightly weakened.

He looked over at Ivy, who was looking at him strangely, and quickly scribbled at note to her. _I need to occlude for a few minutes. Cover for me, if Binns asks any questions_.

He passed her the note, and she glanced at it before nodding. They both knew it was unlikely that the ghostly professor would take any notice of anyone at all as he lectured in that monotone voice.

Instead of closing his eyes, Connor stared at the glass ball for his visualization, imagining himself inside of it, floating in the blue sky. He blocked out the world around him, systematically forcing deliberate sensory deprivation and working his way back to awareness. He blinked rapidly to moisten his eyes, which felt dry, as though he hadn't blinked in a long time.

Professor Binns was still droning on, and the clock told him he had only been occluding his mind for about ten minutes, but he felt immeasurably better for it.

The room seemed quieter and more settled than it had before, and even his hands had stopped itching; maybe because he had stopped thinking about them when he'd begun. He raised the glass ball to study it more closely, and saw that the blue sky inside now had clouds scudding about inside, just like the ones he'd produced that morning to represent distracting thoughts. Perhaps this ball was more than just a clever little visualization aid. Maybe it was more like a psychic thermometer to help him gauge how heavily the distractions were weighing on him at any given time. He resolved to check it later in the day, to see if there was any change in it when he was beginning to feel strained by images trying to intrude again.

Ivy glanced over at him and smiled when she saw that he was back, and went back to taking her notes. Connor quickly put the ball in his pocket, and then began to take notes as well, because he didn't know how much of what the professor was telling them was actually in the text book. He had a feeling that he might have enjoyed History of Magic if someone who really cared about the subject taught it, not a ghost who probably remembered a lot of it first-hand and spoke of it as if it were old news.

After class, they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Connor found that he was absolutely famished. The bite of apple he had eaten at break didn't seem to have done the job of tiding him over between meals. As they walked to the Gryffindor table, Connor heard someone at the Hufflepuff table whispering his name, but when he looked over, anyone who might have been looking at him suddenly turned their heads in the other direction.

"Great," he muttered under his breath. "Good news travels fast."

They found seats near the middle of the table, and Rachel hurried in and squeezed in between Connor and Zack.

"Connor!" she exclaimed. "I was just in transfiguration, and some Hufflepuffs were saying that you saved an entire class from an explosion!"

Connor couldn't help but snort in amusement at the strange way the gossip around school got distorted in such a short period of time. "It wasn't an explosion. I just stopped a girl from adding the wrong ingredient to her potion."

"Oh," Rachel said, sounding a little disappointed. "Then why's everyone making such a big deal about it?"

"Because the ingredient she almost put into her potion could have blinded us all and given us hallucinations," Zack supplied. "He shouted at her, and Snape grabbed it out of her hand at the last second. It was a very close thing."

"And so once again, I am a freak," Connor said gloomily, ladling stew onto his plate.

"It's not that bad," Ivy told him reassuringly.

"Maybe I'll get lucky, and someone will transfigure Professor Thompson into a Jobberknoll or something today, and take the attention off of me," Connor said without much hope of this ever happening.

He looked up at the head table, to see that Professor Snape was leaning toward the Headmistress and talking in her ear. Her eyes swung to the Gryffindor table, and landed on Connor, causing him to look away as if he hadn't noticed. Of course now that McGonagall knew about the Potions incident, she would have a letter off to his parents within the hour.

He knew that he had better write to them about it as soon as classes were over, to assure them that he was practicing his Occlumency, and that he was fine. They tended to worry about him since his adventure at the Ministry last April and everything that had led up to it. That had been the point at which his precognitive abilities had seemed to increase in intensity, bringing about the need for him to learn Occlumency in the first place. With a sigh, he recognized that there was very little that he could do about it now, and tucked into his lunch with enthusiasm. He really was very hungry.

Three servings of stew later, Connor hurried up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower with his friends to get his books for the afternoon classes. He still had Care of Magical Creatures and Defence Against the Dark Arts to contend with today, though he was excited to be starting a new subject. Ivy and Quentin disappeared down one corridor toward the Arithmancy classroom, while Connor and Zack headed for the Care of Magical Creatures classroom on the first floor.

Connor knew that this class used to be held out on the school grounds, by the gamekeeper's hut, when his father had been in school. He had been told numerous stories about the gentle half-giant that had taught the class and been his father's friend. Old Rubeus Hagrid had died when Connor had been just a baby; his parents said that he had met him once, but Connor didn't remember it.

These days the class was taught indoors, for the most part, by a nice, if somewhat rigid, witch named Professor Grubbly-Plank. Connor had seen her around the school before, and had been amused by the fact that she occasionally could be seen smoking a pipe when she took a class outside for practical lessons with larger creatures. He wasn't used to seeing women with pipes in their mouths, and it always struck him as funny.

Connor and Zack took seats in the front row and were reminded, by the blue and bronze coloured patches and ties of their fellow students', that they were sharing this class with Ravenclaw students. There was a long row of tables along the far wall, all lined with various sized tanks, aquariums, cages and crates, most of which were covered with cloth sheets. There was also a covered tank on the professor's desk.

The loud gong-like bell that announced that the students should have reached their classes by now tolled as two more last minute students ducked in through the door, giggling. Professor Grubbly-Plank followed them in and shut the door firmly behind her before taking her place at her desk. She took the class register quickly, then stood.

"Welcome, everyone," she said briskly. "You have wisely chosen to study Care of Magical creatures. I think you will find this subject to be informative, and hopefully as fascinating, as I find it. If you work hard and do your best work, I see no reason why you should not all do very well in my class. I must warn you that we will be dealing, on occasion, with potentially dangerous creatures. I expect every single student to follow instructions and elementary safety procedures when handling any creature, and to treat them all with the respect they deserve. Any questions?"

Connor got an impression of great energy and competence from the professor, and she seemed to be fair and straightforward in her personality. When no one voiced any questions about her class, she asked them to take out their textbooks and open them to page twelve.

"You will find that in this class, as in many others, we will meet once for a single period during the week, and once for a double period. Generally, the single period sessions will be devoted to learning from lecture and your textbook, with occasional visual aids. A double class period will often be held outdoors, weather permitting, and will involve more practical, hands-on types of lessons, where you will actually get a chance to put what you have learned into action. Therefore, I ask each and every one of you to bring your dragon hide gloves to every class period, with no exceptions."

Connor glanced at Zack with a grin. He felt sure he was going to enjoy this class, and was looking forward to actually handling different animals in the future.

"Today, we are going to discuss Streelers. Can anyone tell me what a Streeler is?" the professor asked, looking around the room at all of the raised hands.

"Yes, Miss…." She checked the register. "Whitcombe?"

"A Streeler is a giant poisonous snail that changes colour hourly," the Ravenclaw girl answered.

"Correct," Professor Grubbly-Plank praised. "Five points to Ravenclaw." She whipped the cover off of the tank to reveal three Streelers, all different colours, all about the size of Connor's fist, oozing around the tank. They were similar to the ones that he had seen in the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley, if a bit larger. "The Streeler is native to Africa, though it does do quite well in most temperate climates. It cannot abide extreme cold, however, and prefers moist areas with thick vegetation. Many witches and wizards like to keep Streelers as pets, but you should always keep in mind that these are poisonous animals, and should never come in contact with bare skin."

She went on to lecture about the feeding habits of Streelers and their basic anatomy. By placing a few leaves in their tank, she demonstrated how their slime trail instantly kills vegetation. She explained the procedure for treatment if accidentally poisoned, and showed them a rather gruesome photograph of a wizard that had tried to pick up a Streeler with his bare hands in an attempt to save his prized albino pumpkins. The class was interesting, though the Streelers themselves weren't terribly exciting. They were nice to look at though, and one of them changed from vibrant yellow to a deep violet as they watched.

Professor Grubbly-Plank set them reading, asked them to summarize the section on Streelers for homework, and advised them to read up on flobberworms for their next lesson. The class was over before they knew it, and Zack commented that he thought he was going to enjoy the class as well. They made their way down the corridor, lucky that the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was on the same floor as Care of Magical Creatures. Defence Against the Dark Arts actually had several classrooms devoted to different areas of study, as did Charms and Transfiguration, and this year they were in a room that both Zack and Connor were familiar with, since they, along with Ivy, Rachel and Quentin, had been given the task of spending a week cleaning it the year before as detention work.

"I can't believe we're with the Slytherins," Connor groaned as they approached the door to the classroom. "I used to love this class."

"What's wrong with Slytherins, future boy?"

Connor turned at the sound of the nasty voice, and was just a second too late to keep the taller Slytherin boy from snatching his wand from his pocket. His friends laughed stupidly along with him and he said, "He didn't see that coming, though, did he? Maybe he's not so talented after all."

"Give it back, White." Connor didn't raise his voice, but simply held out his hand expectantly.

"Or you'll do what?" the boy taunted.

Zack pulled his wand and pointed it at the Slytherin, but his friends had anticipated that move, and had their wands out as well, pointed at Zack.

"Is your little Mudblood _girl_friend going to fight us for you?" one of the other Slytherins asked in a mock baby voice.

"Don't call him that, you snake!" Connor admonished angrily.

"You're not really in a position to be making demands, now, are you, future boy?" the instigator asked, holding Connor's wand in the air just out of reach. "You're just as useless as that new fat cousin of yours. He should have been sorted into Gryffindor with the rest of the losers."

"I said give me my wand!" Connor warned, angry now and feeling as though he wanted to punch the boy. Even if he didn't really care for Rupert very much, he was technically still family; therefore an insult to him required at least a little indignation on his behalf. He reached up toward his wand, and the other boy simply laughed, as Connor's fingertips didn't even come close to being able to reach it. Suddenly Connor opened his hand and shouted, "Give it!"

The wand, as though following orders, jumped obligingly from the boy's hand, and directly into Connor's waiting one.

"What is going on out here?"

Professor Lupin was standing in the corridor, having just emerged from his classroom in time to witness Connor's retrieval of his wand. All of the other students quickly lowered their wands.

"White took Connor's wand from him, Professor," Zack said.

"And they called Zack a Mud…well, you know," Connor said. "He pulled his wand out to try to help me, but all of them," Connor pointed to the three other Slytherins, "pulled theirs as well, and pointed them at us."

"Is this true, Daniel?" Professor Lupin asked the boy who had taken Connor's wand.

"He just did wandless magic," one of the other boys announced stupidly, staring at Connor with his mouth hanging open.

"I was just mad," Connor excused the action out of hand. Emotional magic was unusual, but not unheard of at their age, and Connor had been very angry.

"But --" the other boy persisted.

"Daniel?" Professor Lupin asked again, ignoring the other Slytherins.

"We were just having a little fun," Daniel grumbled in his defence.

"Some idea of fun," Zack spat.

"Because I didn't hear the swearing," the professor said calmly, "there is not much I can do about it, except give you a warning. I won't tolerate that type of language, and I will deduct enough points next time I _do_ hear it to deter you from using it again, understood?"

All of the Slytherins nodded.

"I did, however, see Mr White withholding a wand from another student, which is against the rules. I think you'll find that trying a stunt such as that once you leave Hogwarts will earn you a lot more than the ten points I'm deducting from you today."

"Yes, sir," Daniel said sulkily.

"In you go, then." Professor Lupin stood back to allow the students to precede him into the room, and as Connor passed, murmured, "A word after class, please, Connor."

Connor nodded glumly. Sometimes having Professor Lupin as an honorary uncle was not necessarily all that fun. He knew that he was going to be questioned about the incident in Potions, and that Lupin would probably write a letter to his parents in addition to the one that Professor McGonagall was no doubt composing right now.

Zack looked at him sympathetically, and the two of them took the seats between Quentin and Ivy. Quentin asked quietly what had happened in the hallway, but Professor Lupin began speaking at that moment, and they all fell silent.

"Good afternoon, class," Professor Lupin said cheerfully, with no indication that he had been irate, and had just delivered a punishment, a few moments before. "As you all should know by now, I am Professor Lupin. This year, we will be focusing primarily on the study of Dark Creatures, and how to deal with them, should you encounter them."

The class shifted in their seats a little, interested.

"We will be meeting three times a week, studying together as a _class_," the professor continued. "Not as Slytherins and Gryffindors. I expect each and every one of you to treat each other with respect, and will not tolerate rude behaviour." His eyes paused briefly on Daniel White. "Also this year, we will be having a teacher's assistant with us from time to time to help in the classroom and with grading papers. Ms Grayson will also be taking over any classes that I am unable to teach due to the full moon or for any other reason. She will have full authority to assign homework, and to give or take house points, as she deems necessary. Unfortunately, she will be unable to join us until Friday. When she does arrive, you will be expected to treat her in the same manner you would any teacher at this school."

The students all looked around at each other for a moment. Finally Ivy raised her hand into the air.

"Yes, Miss Longbottom?"

"Professor," she asked curiously, "why haven't you ever had an assistant before?"

"I didn't feel one was strictly necessary before," Professor Lupin said easily. "But I may be doing some travelling this year from time to time on personal business, and with my incapacitation for at least two days each month, the Headmistress and myself decided it would be a wise idea to have someone who was familiar with my classes, and the subject of defence, on hand."

"But you're not planning on leaving, are you?" Ivy asked worriedly. Professor Lupin was easily one of the most popular teachers in the school.

"No, Ivy," he assured her kindly. "This isn't some clever trick to ease a new teacher into my place so that I can stop teaching. Hogwarts is my home, and I have no plans to abandon it any time soon."

Connor could tell that Ivy was as relieved as he was, and he settled down to the first lesson. They briefly discussed what separated a dark creature from an ordinary magical one, and then turned to the first of many dark creatures, which turned out to be Ghouls. They took notes about the simple-minded, ogre-like creatures, and discussed their living habits and ideal habitats for the rest of the hour. They were relatively harmless creatures, and were not generally disposed of or relocated unless the dwelling in which they lived was passed into Muggle hands.

The class was dismissed with no homework assignment, and everyone except Connor walked out, discussing the lesson or the imminent arrival of the new teacher's assistant at the end of the week.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Connor asked as he approached Lupin's desk.

"Yes, I did, Connor," Lupin said, smiling as he leaned back in his chair. "First of all, I wanted to say that I caught that little bit of magic you used to get your wand back from Daniel. Was that intentional?"

"No, sir," Connor answered truthfully.

"Hmm. You're a bit old to be displaying emotional magic, and while you were angry, I wouldn't say that you were out of control with it," Professor Lupin observed. "You may well have displayed a predilection for wandless magic. Care to explore that a little further sometime? Your father has an extraordinary talent for it, so it stands to reason that you might have inherited some from him."

"Right now, I think I have enough talents to be worrying about, thanks," Connor said firmly. "And everyone already thinks I'm weird."

"It's your choice, of course, but wandless magic can be a very useful thing. You might want to think about it," Lupin said offhandedly, then changed the subject. "I've had a letter from your Occlumency instructor, asking me to continue his work with you once a week or as you need it. I won't pretend to be as accomplished as Mr Sharpe, but I'd like to set up a time to meet with you in the next week to go over everything you know. We could work from there."

"Okay," Connor agreed. "I've been doing okay so far."

The professor nodded with a smile, and said "I hear you had quite an eventful morning in Potions class." He didn't seem particularly concerned over this fact, and Connor relaxed a little.

"You could say that," Connor agreed, shrugging his shoulders to show that he thought it was no big deal.

"Professor Snape thought that it was worth mentioning to the Headmistress," Lupin said casually. "I think you rather rattled him. The Yage that Miss Lerner nearly used was not even supposed to be in the student supply cabinet, as it is a controlled substance. He wasn't sure how it came to be there, but admitted that you probably saved the entire class from a very ugly fate. Not that he would ever share that bit of information with you himself, of course."

"I know," Connor said. "I saw what could've happened."

"I'm sorry," Professor Lupin said sincerely. "That can't have been very nice."

"It was only for a second," Connor dismissed. He did not want to give the impression that he was overly troubled about it, or they'd have him in counselling next. "It doesn't happen that often."

"Well, that's something, at least," Lupin said. "But I was asked by Professor McGonagall to tell you that your presence of mind in preventing a horrible accident was commendable, and that she has awarded Gryffindor house fifty points for your quick thinking."

Connor smiled brightly. "Thank you!"

"I think the whole point of it was to say thank _you_," Professor Lupin returned cheerfully. He stood from his chair, and patted Connor's shoulder, shifting into Uncle mode. "So how was your first day, other than that?"

"It was good. I think I'm going to like Care of Magical Creatures," he answered, walking to the door with Lupin.

"I think you will, too," Professor Lupin answered. "It was one of my favourites when I was in school. Not too many distractions today?"

"I did get a bit of a headache after potions," Connor admitted. "But I took a bit of a break to practice my Occlumency during History of Magic, and it went away. My hands even stopped itching, but I think I should still go to see Madam Cosgrove about it. I promised my mum."

"Your hands?" Professor Lupin asked, quizzically. "What happened to your hands?"

"Dunno," Connor said, holding them up. They looked completely normal, and were not bothering him at the moment. "They just started itching a couple of weeks ago, and it gets really bad sometimes."

"No rash or anything?" He examined the boy's hands, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Nope," Connor said. "Mum put some cream on them before, and that seemed to help, so maybe Madam Cosgrove will have something like that for when they start to itch again."

"Probably," Lupin answered. "Don't forget to write to your parents tonight and tell them about what happened in Potions. And tell them I say hello."

"I will," Connor promised, and waved over his shoulder as he left the room and headed down a side corridor toward the Hospital Wing.

The matron listened to his complaint, but could find nothing wrong with him after several diagnostic spells and charms, and told him to come back at a time when they were actively bothering him, so she could check them then.

By the time Connor made it back up to Gryffindor Tower, the others were already spread out at a table, working on the day's assignments. He retrieved his potions book so that he could finish his essay questions, then sat down next to Rachel. He talked with her for a while about her first day of classes, and waved happily at the other students who called out to him, thanking him for Gryffindor's early jump in house points.

Because he didn't have much homework, he was finished in no time at all.. It looked as though Ivy and Quentin had received some Arithmancy homework, and Rachel was bent over her Transfiguration text.

Seeing that his friends were still working, Connor pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, and began what ended up being a very long letter home. It seemed strange that he had left home only yesterday morning, and fought back a tiny pang of homesickness.

He was just folding up his letter when the other kids in the common room began to leave through the portrait hole for dinner. Startled that so much time had passed, he quickly gathered his things, retreated to his room, and practiced Occlumency for a few minutes before heading down to the Great Hall.

Dinner was noisy, but Connor was glad that he didn't hear his name whispered along the tables, as he had feared would be the case. He waved to a few familiar faces at the other house tables, then sat down to eat, feeling a bit tired from his first day back, but happy overall.

He went to the Owlery after dinner, and wasn't surprised to see that many of the school owls were gone. He reckoned that almost every first year student had sent a letter home with news about their first day, but he managed to find a willing bird, attached his letter, and watched as it soared over the forest and off toward his home.

The evening was spent reading his History of Magic chapters, and the section on flobberworms in his Care of Magical Creatures text. He was hard-pressed to decide which was more boring: the history, or the flobberworms. He finally slogged through it all and gratefully jumped at the offer to play chess with his cousin, Aiden, who was usually too distracted to put up too big of a challenge, but was fun to play against anyway.

As Connor contemplated his moves, Aiden worked to distract him by telling him all about his first day back. Aiden was a year ahead of Connor at Hogwarts, and they both played on the house Quidditch team, so they always had something they could talk about. Connor moved his pieces around the board, listening to the idle chatter around him, but didn't really take notice until Aiden mentioned Rupert.

"What was that?" Connor asked.

"I said that I saw Rupert this afternoon after classes, talking to some Slytherin firsties," Aiden repeated. "He was talking about how his father was Harry Potter's cousin, so that meant he was Harry Potter's cousin as well. Trying to impress them with the name, I guess."

Connor groaned. "Fat lot of good it will do him in Slytherin," he muttered, moving another piece on the board. "Checkmate."

"No way!" Aiden complained, surveying the board.

"Sorry," Connor said, insincerely.

"Let's play again," Aiden demanded. "I know I can beat you!"

"Not tonight," Connor declined. "I'm really tired. I'm going to make it an early night."

Aiden nodded, and they said good night.

Connor waved to his friends, and was soon lying in bed, emptying his mind, and sinking into a deep sleep.

**_A/N – Hi All! I just wanted to tack a short note onto the end here to say thank you for all of the positive feedback and concrit you've been offering. I hope you found this chapter worthy of a review from you! Also, a reminder, that if you leave a review, you can look for a response from me (usually within a day or two) at my LJ here: (apparently doesn't allow links, so this is the best I can do - go to my profile and click on the link from there! Sorry!)_**


	6. Chapter Six Classes and Quidditch

**Chapter Six – Classes and Quidditch**

_We cannot become what we need to be by remaining what we are. --Max Depree_

Tuesday was uneventful. Most of the students had settled down, shaken off most of the nervous energy that had gripped them all on the first day of classes. Connor had seen his cousin Marcus, who was a Ravenclaw prefect this year, comforting a tearful and homesick first year in the morning.

In fact, Connor noticed that many of the first years seemed to be suffering from homesickness. It made him wonder how many first years had had their first Potions lessons yesterday. Professor Snape could be frightening on the best of days, and yesterday, after Connor's incident, he would undoubtedly have been in an especially foul mood. It would be enough, Connor thought over hid dinner that evening, to make any first year believe that Hogwarts was the most awful place in the world.

Wednesday, Connor was woken up early by shouts and curses coming from Zack's bed. Connor threw back the bed's hangings and grabbed his wand from the nightstand, not sure what to expect. What he saw made him laugh.

Peeves hung in the air over Zack's bed, holding the water pitcher upside down over the boy. Because it was a bottomless pitcher, Zack, who was already soaked, was only getting wetter the longer Peeves held it over his head.

"Knock it off, Peeves!" Andrew Tillman ordered from his own bed. "We're trying to sleep here!"

"Oh!" Peeves cackled , and Andrew's eyes widen as he realized his mistake. "Does the other itty wee Gryffindor want a drink, too?"

"Uh-oh," Quentin murmured from his own bed.

Connor watched Andrew's face screw up in anticipation of a cold shower, then suddenly remembered that he had his wand in his hand. "_Expelliarmus_!" he cried, pointing his wand at Peeves.

The beam of light from the spell hit the pitcher, and shot it out of the poltergeist's grip, causing the strange little man to swear and speed from the room, shouting, "_Zooooooom_!"

The pitcher landed on Zack's bed with a dull thud. "Well, I'm awake now," he said in an irritated voice. He stood up and tugged off his sodden clothes, then pulled on his dressing gown. "I guess I'll go shower properly."

"It's barely five!" Quentin muttered in dismay.

"I'm not going to get back to sleep in that mess," Zack answered logically, gesturing to the sopping wet sheets and mattress.

Quentin just shrugged and fell back onto his pillows, clearly not ready to get up. Andrew followed suit, but Connor got up, knowing that he was never going to be able to get back to sleep now. He threw his covers aside, grabbed his dressing gown and toiletry kit, then followed Zack from the room. At least he wouldn't have to wait for a shower stall to be free at this time of morning.

"Watch out for that soap on the floor," Connor warned through a yawn, as Zack preceded him through the door to the showers.

"Thanks," Zack said, carefully stepping over the fresh bar of soap that Peeves had no doubt set out to cause someone an unexpected fall.

Connor stooped to pick it up to avoid any accidents, while Zack stepped into a shower stall and then said, "And mind the…"

He didn't get a chance to finish his warning, though, before Zack shouted in a high-pitched voice and jumped backward. "It's Freezing!" he said.

"Sorry," Connor apologized. "I tried to tell you that Peeves switched the handles."

Zack carefully sidled back into the stall to adjust the temperature of the water, and everything went fine after that. As Connor stood under the hot spray a few minutes later, he made a mental note to occlude his mind when he got back to his room. He would not have had the images of the soap or the cold water breaking into his thoughts, had he practiced his Occlumency beforehand. Now that he had seen them, he began to notice the faint buzzing pressure at the back of his mind of many other distracting thoughts and images trying to get through. He would need to filter them out before they became a nuisance.

Twenty minutes later, he was sitting in the common room with Zack, with the Marauder's Map spread out on the floor in front of them. Ivy's kneazle, Circe, managed to get out of her room somehow and joined them, purring contentedly as she tried to lie on whatever section of the map they were looking at. They had chosen to sit near the fire, where they would be able to hear anyone coming down the stairs and hide the map from view before it was spotted. There wasn't much activity on the map at this hour, and even old Filch and his equally ancient cat were sleeping. The dots representing them on the map were so close together that Mrs Norris might well have been curled up around the caretaker's head.

"Look, McGonagall's up already," Zack said, pointing to her office. She appeared to be sitting at her desk.

"So is Professor Wexler." Connor pointed to the little dot moving about greenhouse number five.

"Think we could talk the house elves into an early breakfast?" Zack asked as his stomach rumbled.

"Let's go find out," Connor said. He folded up the map and took it back to his trunk.

It wasn't long before they were seated at a small table set off to the side of the room in the cavernous kitchen, with tall glasses of milk and plates piled high with food. They were happily eating their way through their meal and laughing together over Zack's description of some of the pranks he had played on his parents over the summer.

It seemed that his father was a lot more enthusiastic about belching bubbles and canary crèmes than his mother was. Connor was also interested to find out that the Canary Creams didn't work on Muggles: Zack's had gotten his father to try one with his tea one day, but nothing had happened. At first, Zack had thought that the trick biscuits were defective and had eaten one himself to test it. His mother had nearly fainted to find an almost-six-foot-tall canary in her sitting room, and had muttered for a week afterward about finding feathers everywhere.

"Having fun, boys?"

Connor and Zack were startled by the sudden appearance of Professor Lupin, and wondered if they were in trouble. Technically, they weren't supposed to be in the kitchens, but Connor had shared a meal with his uncle here before and it hadn't been an issue then.

"Good morning," Connor said, hoping that if he acted as though nothing were out of the ordinary, they would avoid punishment.

"Good morning," Lupin answered. "What brings you boys here so early?" He drew up a chair and sat at the table with them, nicking a piece of bacon from Connor's plate, even as a house elf brought him his own.

The boys sighed with relief and smiled.

"Peeves," Zack said simply.

"He got Zack with a pitcher of water over the head," Connor explained further. "It woke us all up, and Zack and I couldn't get back to sleep. He also set up a couple of pranks in the boy's showers."

"Anything like the ones you set up in the Great Hall last April?" Lupin asked casually.

Zack nearly choked on his milk.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Connor replied, deadpan. "What about you, Uncle Remus? Why are you having breakfast here?"

Lupin's lips twitched at the smooth denial and change of subject. "My teaching assistant, Ms Grayson, was able readjust her schedule and will be arriving on the early train. I'm going to be collecting her at seven from Hogsmeade Station."

"Will she be in class today?" Connor asked curiously.

"I don't know," Lupin answered. "I thought I'd leave that up to her. She may want to take the day to get settled in and rest."

"Why didn't she just Apparate or Floo here?" Zack asked.

"It's my understanding that she prefers not to apparate under most circumstances," Lupin said easily. "Many witches and wizards avoid it if they can. Plus, she was out of the country and didn't care to travel for that long in the Floo Network. International Portkeys tend to be expensive, as well, and it was too long for broomstick travel; the train was the most sensible mode of transportation under the circumstances."

"Where's she coming from?" Connor asked.

"She's been in South America for some time, though she is English. She was seeing to some family business and, luckily for us, was able to finish it and return to Britain a few days ahead of schedule," the professor told them as he ate. "In fact, I should be going, if I want to make it in time."

He quickly drained his teacup, patted his lips with his napkin and said goodbye to the boys before leaving. Connor and Zack looked at each other for a moment, then got to their feet and rushed to catch up with the professor.

"Hey, Uncle Remus!" Connor called, jogging up the stairs.

The professor stopped and looked back inquiringly.

"Can we go with you?" Connor asked. "We've still got loads of time to kill before our first class, and we've got Defence first, so I know we'll be back in time!"

"Sorry boys," the professor smiled. "But I can't take you off of school grounds without the Headmistress's permission. Besides, you don't even have cloaks with you; you'd freeze."

Zack and Connor were disappointed, but didn't argue. They remembered all too well what had happened the last time they had left school grounds without permission.

It was too early to go to the library, even if Connor didn't have an aversion to Madam Pince, the Librarian. Instead, they made their way back to the common room to wait for everyone else to emerge from their rooms. The good chairs by the fire were already taken by a couple of seventh year students, so the boys sat down at the small table by the window that was mostly used for chess. They cursed Peeves half-heartedly, yawning as they talked about the new classes they would start today. Connor and Ivy had Divination together after lunch, while Zack had Ancient Runes, and Quentin had Muggle Studies.

"I'll never understand why you chose Ancient Runes," Connor murmured, shaking his head in pity. "It sounds dead boring, if you ask me."

"I don't get why you're taking Divination," Zack countered. "You already see stuff all the time."

"My parents want me to take it," Connor told him. "I was going to do Muggle Studies with Quint. My mum thinks that maybe learning about all of the different methods of divination there are might help me find a way to 'hone and refine' my skill."

"I guess that makes sense," Zack admitted. "Professor Lyra seems nice. I've seen her hanging around the dungeon, actually. I think she might have a thing for Professor Snape."

"No!" Connor said in disbelief. "I mean, he's great with potions, but who would ever _like_ him?"

"Dunno," Zack said with a shrug. "All I know is that I've seen her down there a few times, and they sit near each other a lot during meals."

"That's just not something I want to think about," Connor stated. "Ever."

Zack laughed.

"My dad wasn't too keen on my taking Divination," Connor confided. "I mean – the first half of his life was all about a couple of prophecies, and stuff. Plus he said that the Divination teacher back then was a total loon. I've heard Uncle Ron and my dad joke about her before."

"Well Professor Lyra's supposed to be quite good," Zack said encouragingly. "I heard she was a real Seer and all that, and that she's pretty well respected."

"That's what my mum said," Connor said. "Which is why I think my dad agreed with her in the end."

"Well you'll find out today," Zack said, then spotted Rachel and Ivy coming down the stairs. "Finally!"

"What do you mean 'finally'?" Ivy asked in surprise. "It's only a quarter to eight!"

"We've been up for hours!" Zack said, yawning to punctuate this statement. "Rotten Peeves!"

Soon the five of them were heading down to the Great Hall. As Connor sat down, , he overheard her cousin Patrick saying that they had flying lessons scheduled for their final class that day, instead of charms.

"We've got the afternoon free," Connor pointed out as they sat down. "Want to go watch the first years learn to fly?"

"Well I don't have a free afternoon," Rachel said. "But I would love to see Rupert trying to get into the air."

"I'm in," Quentin said with a not-all-together nice smile.

"Me too," Zack agreed with a similar expression.

"Oh, all right." Ivy gave in, not looking as eager, but willing enough to go along.

"I don't see why _all_ of the first year students have to have lessons," Rachel complained. "It's ridiculous for Patrick and Maggie to have to waste their time with it when they know perfectly well how to ride."

"Probably just to make sure everyone knows how to do it right," Ivy guessed. "I mean, next year, they'll be allowed to bring brooms to school, and they don't want any accidents with kids who _think_ they know how to fly."

Zack systematically shredded a muffin onto his plate, and Connor nibbled idly on one of his own while the others ate their breakfast. They talked about the new subjects that they were starting. Rachel complained that she had double History of Magic first thing, and her note-taking quill was malfunctioning: it kept writing in spirals. Finally they all rose and said goodbye to Rachel, then departed for the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Their Defence lesson was interesting, but Connor found himself distracted by the sight of someone moving around in Professor Lupin's office while he was teaching them about how to rid a house of a Bundimun infestation. He caught sight of a woman standing near the office's open door at point, but she didn't linger there long. His impression was of a witch of medium height, with mousy brown hair and wire-frames glasses, kind of plain looking in navy blue robes.

He was drawn back to the lesson by a quiet word from Professor Lupin, and did not see the woman again, though he knew that she must be Ms Grayson.

After Defence Against the Dark Arts, Connor and Zack had Care of Magical Creatures. The entered the classroom with shared looks of gloom at the prospect of two hours spend learning about. They had to be among the most boring creatures on the planet.

Professor Grubbly-Plank, however, did not seem to share their opinion, and produced a tank full of the ten-inch-long brown worms for them. The flobberworms were basically horrifically large earthworm. There really wasn't much to say about them, but by the end of class they each had a detailed drawing of a flobberworm's anatomy, and knew exactly how to extract mucus from them for potion-thickening agents.

Connor sincerely hoped that the lesson on Fairies next week would prove to be more stimulating, and involve much less mucus.

At lunch, Rachel seemed to still be in a stupor from her double History of Magic class, and Quentin and Ivy were discussing something they had learned in Arithmancy. Zack was perusing his Ancient Runes text in anticipation of his first class, but Connor was not quite as enthusiastic about his upcoming Divination. He couldn't help but remember what his father had said about the subject when he had been at school. His mother had been cross with his dad when she had overheard him admitting to Connor that he had made up the majority of the answers to his homework.

"Connor," Ivy said to him. "It's almost time to get to Divination. It's all the way up in the North Tower, so we should hurry."

"Any idea how to get there?" Connor asked, pocketing a handful of peppermint humbugs from a bowl on the table.

"The entrance to the North Tower starts from the seventh floor," Rachel told them. "I found it when I kept getting lost last year."

"We'd better go!" Connor said, quickly shouldering his bag. "It'll take us ten minutes to get there at least!"

"Let's meet in the Entrance Hall right after class and go out to watch the flying lessons," Quentin called after their retreating figures.

They waved over their shoulders as they jogged out of the Great Hall and headed up the stairs. They were out of breath by the time they reached the landing at the top of the North Tower, with several other students hurrying up the long staircase behind them. There were both Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs gathered around a rope ladder, staring up at a circular hole in the ceiling where the ladder disappeared. Suddenly Professor Lyra's face appeared in the hole, and she called down to them.

"Well what are you waiting for? Come on up!"

Connor raised an eyebrow at Ivy, and she giggled as they got in line to climb the ladder. When he emerged into the classroom, Connor turned to help Ivy up, and they found seats at one of several tiny tables that were scattered all over the small space.

There was a cheerful fire blazing in the grate, and shelves lining all the walls that held numerous teacups, crystal balls, decks of tarot cards and various other items that Connor couldn't identify off-hand.

The students all clambered up through the door in the floor and took seats, looking around them interestedly while taking out books, parchment and quills. Professor Lyra stood at the front of the room, beside her desk, as she surveyed them all. She nodded to one or two of the students that she recognized, and soon everyone was settled.

"Good afternoon, class," she greeted them cheerfully.

Connor ignored the faint buzzing in his head that told him he should have taken a few minutes during lunch to practice Occlumency, and studied his new professor.

She was nothing like the description that his father had given him of Professor Trelawney, who had taught this course in his day. Professor Lyra was fairly attractive and looked young, for a professor, with straight dark brown hair and light blue eyes that were startling in contrast. She wore brightly coloured robes, and high heeled lace-up boots that peaked out from underneath her robes..

"You are all here today to begin learning about divination," she began. "I am Professor Tara Lyra. If you came to my classroom to learn how to see the future, you will most likely end up disappointed. Foretelling the future is a rare gift, and the future rarely reveals itself to anyone upon demand. I do not expect any of you to be able to predict the future with any kind of regularity or accuracy. That is not to say that none of you will possess _some_ ability in reading portents in various forms, but a true Seer is very rare. The point of this class is to educate you in the forms of divination, not to turn you into fortune tellers."

One of the Hufflepuff boys raised his hand in the air, and she smiled and nodded encouragingly at him. "Professor," he asked with a slight tremor in his voice. "Aren't _you_ a Seer?"

"I am," she answered firmly. "I come from a long line of Seers, in fact."

"So it's a hereditary thing?" a girl asked.

"It can be," the professor answered. "But not always. As I said before, the future rarely reveals itself on demand. Also, one does not have to be a Seer to be able to divine the future, if one had a predilection for it. Seers tend to make prophecies regarding some large future events, often of historical importance, and these very open to interpretation.

"However, not all diviners are Seers. Some have an innate gift for predicting only certain aspects of the future, such as predicting the weather, or true matchmaking. There are different methods and tools that can be used to help coax these portents to the surface of the conscious mind: tea leaves, palmistry, tarot, and crystal balls, to name only a few. I have never heard of anyone who was proficient in all of them, and even those who find one of these methods to be helpful will tell you that they are not always reliable. The future is constantly in flux, changing with every decision we make, every moment of our lives. Nothing is written in stone when it comes to the future, it is what you make of it."

"Connor can predict the future," one of the Hufflepuff girls called out from the back of the room.

"I - cannot - predict - the - future!" Connor growled.

"Well," Professor Lyra said, stepping forward to prevent an argument. "We've all heard about Connor's unique talents. Perhaps over the course of the coming year, we might all be able to learn a little bit more about precognition and explore how and why it's different for each individual with such talents. I'll warn you all now, though, to keep in mind that harassment of any kind toward any of the students will be severely punished. Connor has a right to his privacy, as do you all."

The students all looked at each other and at Connor, but settled down to hear what else the professor had to say.

Connor rested his elbows on the table and massaged his eyes with his thumbs in frustration. The buzzing at the back of his mind was increasing in volume, and he wondered if anyone would notice if he retrieved the small charmed ball from his pocket and took a few minutes to occlude his mind. An image suddenly flashed before his eyes, of the professor tripping on a patch of upturned carpet, and he began to raise his hand in an effort to warn her, but thought better of it. He hadn't seen any dire consequences to the fall, and knew that if he spoke up now, it would just end up causing him grief.

Ivy noticed his hand twitch up, then back suddenly and turned to look at him, just as the toe of Professor Lyra's granny boot caught on the carpet and she lurched forward. Connor jerked in his seat, fighting the urge to rush forward to catch her, then sighed with relief as she caught herself on the edge of the nearest table and regained her balance.

"Today," she told them without missing a beat, "we don't have an awful lot of time, since it took many of you some extra time to find the classroom. Now that we are through with introductions, our time is almost up. For the rest of the class period, I would like each of you to take out some parchment and write me a paragraph or two about yourselves."

Everyone groaned.

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," she said with a chuckle. "It's not an essay that I plan to grade. I simply want to get a feel for who each of you are. You can include your likes and dislikes, where you live, if you have any siblings, if you like Quidditch, or even what you think you would like to do once you leave Hogwarts - anything that comes to your mind to describe who you think you are."

Soon the room was full of the sound of scratching quills. Connor relaxed, but was still distracted. If something as innocuous as seeing his teacher trip harmlessly on the rug was breaking through, it was definitely time to bolster his mental defences. He quickly scribbled out a paragraph about his family, how he loved to fly and play Quidditch, and another about his friends.

Finally, he set down his quill and fished the charmed ball from his pocket. The ball showed a blue sky with dozens of small, grey, wispy clouds, telling him that his mental defences were breaking down. He held it between two fingers and kept it relatively close to his chest, so that it would appear that his head was bent over his parchment. The clock on the far wall told him that he had about ten minutes until the end of class, plenty of time to occlude enough to get him through the next couple of hours.

When Connor finally blinked the dryness from his eyes, he found that Ivy was still scratching away with her quill. A quick glance at his watch told him that only about three minutes had passed; he seemed to be getting more efficient at clearing his mind. The charmed ball in his hand now held a smattering of fluffy white clouds inside of it, and Connor nodded to himself in satisfaction as he pocketed it. He looked up to see Professor Lyra watching him intently.

"A word after class, if you would, Mr Potter," she said quietly, so that only Ivy and himself could hear.

Connor nodded, and she moved away to walk around the room. In a few minutes, everyone had handed in their papers and heading for the circular exit in the floor.

"You go ahead and meet Zack and Quentin," Connor told Ivy. "I'll catch you up out at the pitch."

Ivy nodded and filed out with the others, and Connor waited for Professor Lyra to address him. He wondered if she was going to quiz him about his precognitive abilities, or expect him to know a lot about divination.

"Mr Potter," she said after everyone had gone. She sat in the chair that Ivy had just vacated, and looked at him intently. "I realize that you finished your assignment very quickly, but even so, I cannot condone your having toys in my classroom."

"Toys, Professor?" Connor asked, confused.

"You were staring quite intently at a ball or a marble of some sort during class. I didn't say anything, because you put it away rather quickly, but I don't want to see you playing with it again. If you finish an assignment ahead of time, your time would be better spent reading ahead in the textbook."

"Yes, ma'am," Connor answered. "Only, it wasn't a toy." He fished the ball out of his pocket and held it out for her to inspect. "I don't know what it's called, but my Occlumency teacher gave it to me just before I came to Hogwarts. It's supposed to help me, er, visualize so I can clear my mind."

Professor Lyra looked quite interested at this information. "May I?"

Connor nodded and tipped the ball into her hand. The ball went dark for a few moments, and seemed to flicker, before it appeared completely blank and empty in her palm. After a moment, it seemed to fill with a swirling grey smoke. Connor was concerned that it might have been damaged somehow, but the Professor simply held it up to the light and gazed into it.

"Ingenious," she breathed, almost reverently. She tore her eyes away from it after a moment, and handed it carefully back to Connor. "You said your Occlumency teacher gave that to you?"

Connor nodded inspecting the ball, which had flickered, gone blank, and then returned back to its normal state in a few seconds.

"And you were using it during my class to occlude your mind?" she guessed shrewdly.

"Yes, Professor," he admitted. "I know I shouldn't have done it during class time."

"I take it that you were being instructed in Occlumency because of your precognitive abilities?" she asked, studying his expression. "Has it helped you to focus on your visions to give them clarity?"

"No," Connor answered. "That's not why I learned it. My parents wanted me to learn Occlumency so that I could block the images out."

"Block them out?" She sounded slightly alarmed by the idea.

"Well, yeah," Connor said with a shrug. "Otherwise I'd never be able to focus on anything. I practice Occlumency when all of the mental distractions get too loud in my head. It helps me filter them out, so I can concentrate on real life."

"I see," she answered, seeming to be in deep thought. "I was led to believe that your precognitive visions were intermittent at best. Something that happened occasionally but was very irregular."

"It used to be like that," Connor admitted, feeling a bit uncomfortable. He didn't really know this woman, after all, despite her propensity for the subject. "But last year, it kind of…increased, I guess. I started getting images and messages about stuff all the time, even little stuff, until it got to be a big bother. My parents asked Dumbledore and some other people about it, and they all decided that Occlumency was the way to go. They hired someone to teach me over the summer."

"And it's helped you?"

"Sure," Connor said. "At home, I only really needed to do it right before bed, but it seems like the more people are around, the more I need to practice it."

"I understand," she said with a nod. "I would appreciate it, though, if you could try to time these practices during your breaks between classes in the future. If you have a real problem and feel a strong need to occlude, I'll excuse you from class for a few minutes, but please don't make a habit of it."

"I understand," Connor said. "Sorry, Professor."

"All right. We'll discuss this a bit more some other time, okay?" She smiled kindly at him, and motioned for him to go.

Connor breathed a sigh of relief and headed for the ladder.

"Oh, and Connor?" she called after him. "Who was your teacher over the summer?"

"Clive Sharpe," he answered.

"Of course," she said, more to herself than to Connor. "Thank you."

Connor hurried down the ladder and sped down the stairs, reminding himself to consult the Marauder's Map for a faster way to get to the Divination classroom in the future. He slipped out of a side door on the ground floor and spotted his friends in the distance, just at the entrance to the Quidditch pitch. By the time he got there, Ivy, Quentin and Zack were already seated in the stands, overlooking four long rows of battered school broomsticks.

Madam O'Leary and four school prefects stood at the end of the rows, watching as a large group of first year students took up places, one beside each broom. Connor spotted Rupert easily among the Slytherin first years, his size making him impossible to miss. He also spotted Patrick and Maggie standing together looking bemused at the awful brooms they would be expected to mount in a short time, and sympathised with them. These brooms would seem like a joke compared to the brooms they had been forced to leave behind when they'd come to Hogwarts.

A few other students arrived to watch the lesson, and Madam O'Leary shot them all a stern look that told them that they had better not cause trouble.

A few minutes later, the prefects were all walking up and down the rows of beginning flyers adjusting grip or giving further instruction as needed. Madam O'Leary's voice easily reached those sitting in the stands as she gave instructions and the students rose off of the ground, some of them for the very first time in their lives.

Connor laughed at the bored looks on his cousins' faces as they hovered a few feet off the ground, and then landed back on the pitch. One of the Ravenclaw girls had managed to fall off of her broom when it was only three feet above the grass, and many of the students were wobbling in place every time their feet left the ground. The prefects flew around their assigned groups to offer advice and support, then to lead their charges in simple exercises around the pitch, practicing turns and stopping.

Zack and Quentin were beside themselves with silent laughter as Rupert's broom seemed to fly much lower than all of the other kids, as if his bulk was weighing it down and keeping it from gaining the proper height. Some of the other kids were making fun of him too, making Connor cringe. Rupert was not one to take teasing and criticism very well, and would no doubt be snapping at them all soon.

There were a few close calls here and there as the students went through the paces, but for the most part they had the hang of the basics by the end of the hour. When everyone had landed, Connor could hear Rupert's distinct voice coming from a group of Slytherins.

"Well of course I wasn't very good," he told them imperiously. "What do you expect with these rubbish brooms they expect us to use? I'm sure that once my cousin, Harry Potter, makes my broom, I'll be loads better."

"Harry Potter is making you your own broom?" one of the Slytherin girls asked in awe.

"Of course," Rupert assured her airily. "Why wouldn't he?"

Connor could think of about a dozen reasons, but kept them to himself.

Thursday went well, except for the fact that Connor found it necessary to take the time out to practice Occlumency several times that day. He nearly ruined a potion he was working on when he became distracted by the knowledge that Jennifer Coleman was going to lose her quill between classes later. The distractions around him seemed to weigh heavier on his mind, filling it with inconsequential nonsense more often, though it didn't take as long to clear his thoughts as it had done before, either.

He decided to write to Clive about it and ask his advice, thinking that perhaps he was depending on the Occlumency too much, and that he just needed to build up a resistance to the intrusive images. He supposed he could ask Professor Lupin, but he felt that Clive was probably more knowledgeable about it than his uncle was.

Connor was pleased to find that Gryffindor had been scheduled to hold try-outs for their Quidditch team on Friday. He and Quentin were already on the team as Chasers, and Ivy was a reserve Beater, but the Keeper and team captain from last year had graduated, and Jeremy Ogden had left as well, leaving them short one Beater. This meant that the reserve Keeper would most likely move up to first team, and the reserve Beaters would vie for the one open spot on first team as well. Whitney Glendale, the team's Seeker, had been made the new team captain. It would be up to her to decide who the best candidates were for the open spots on the team.

"You going to try out for one of the reserve spots, Rachel?" Ivy asked that morning over breakfast.

"Yes," Rachel nodded. "I'm going to go for reserve Keeper. Tim Nelson is moving up from reserve, but he's leaving at the end of this year, so I could be first team next year. My dad played Keeper, and was working with me all summer on it."

"You'll be brilliant," Connor assured her. He had gotten a few opportunities to help her practice over the summer, and she had blocked more than two-thirds of the Quaffles he had whipped at her.

"What about you, Zack?" Rachel asked. "You going to try for anything?"

"I don't think so," he chuckled. "I'm much better than I was last year, but I think I'll leave the sports to you guys."

"Jarod says he's going to try for reserve Beater," Connor added. "He and Uncle Fred came out a couple of times this summer to hit Bludgers at me for practice; he's got a good swing."

Talk revolved around Quidditch for the most part of the morning, with Ivy and Connor joking over their tealeaves in Divination that the soggy lumps in their cups looked like broomsticks and goal posts. Professor Lyra simply shook her head and smiled indulgently at some of the fanciful things her students claimed to be seeing in their tea leaves as they checked them against shapes in their textbooks. Occasionally a student would find a shape that actually looked like one of the symbolic shapes in their books, and everyone would gather around to check it out. When this happened, the person whose cup it was in was asked to make note of the shape and what it was supposed to mean, and then observe over the next few days to see if the omen in the cup had any truth behind it, or if it was merely coincidence.

"You can find meaning in almost anything if you're looking for it hard enough," she told them. "But true omens will usually come to fruition very clearly, without the need to wonder if an event was linked to it. For instance, Michelle found a shape in her cup that resembled a fish, which means, if her cup is truly trying to tell her something, that she will soon receive news from abroad. I don't mean that she will see something in the Daily Prophet concerning matters abroad, but that she will receive actual news in the form of a letter, or perhaps even a visitor that will bring her information that pertains solely to her. Therefore, her assignment would be to wait and see if something like this occurs. It's simple. Don't let your mind trick you into thinking you see something that isn't there; if you're meant to know it, it should be a clearly defined shape."

"Well there's nothing definite about this mess," Ivy declared, smiling into her cup.

They left the Divination Tower and walked down to the first floor to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. They didn't have to hurry, because even though it was a ten-minute walk from the tower to the first floor, there was a scheduled break in between classes. They didn't really get time to have a proper break, except maybe to stop at the loo, but they didn't have to hurry and end up late and out of breath, either. Quentin and Zack were waiting for them outside the classroom door, as were most of the other students, as the door was locked.

The bell that signalled the start of classes rang, and there was still no sign of Professor Lupin. Some of the Slytherins were making noises about going back to the their common room when a witch in deep red robes came hurrying up the corridor with a ring of keys jingling in her hand.

"Sorry!" she called to them as she approached. "Professor Lupin has been delayed in a meeting, and I had to run and fetch the keys from him. He should be along shortly."

She unlocked the classroom door and shooed them all inside while they looked at her appraisingly. Everyone found seats and took out their books and parchment, then trained their eyes on the unfamiliar woman. She looked fairly unremarkable, aside from bright amber eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. She was average in height, and wore no make up; her hair was pulled back from her face in a simple twist. She did have a nice voice, Connor observed, and a small dimple in her left cheek made and appearance when she smiled.

"You may have guessed by now that I am Professor Lupin's new teaching assistant," she said in a friendly tone, standing in front of the large desk at the front of the room. "My name is Elizabeth Grayson, and you're free to call me Ms Grayson, or Ms Elizabeth; I'll answer to either one. It's going to be my job this year to help Professor Lupin when necessary, and to take over any of his missed classes each month. Would any of you like to ask me any questions?"

A couple of hands went into the air, and she smiled and pointed to a Slytherin girl in the front row.

"Did you attend Hogwarts when you were younger?" Darcy Layton asked.

"Yes, I did," Ms Grayson answered. "In fact, I attended at the same time as Professor Lupin, but a few years behind him."

"Were you in Gryffindor?" Bethany Truegood asked.

"No, actually, I was in Ravenclaw," Ms Grayson smiled.

"Play Quidditch?" Enid Ashcroft from Slytherin asked.

"I did in my school days. Not so much now."

"What did you do before you came here?" Bryce Murphy wanted to know.

"I've spent the past five years in various parts of South America, attending to family business. My grandfather was very ill, and so I went there to care for him and to take care of his coffee plantation. Luckily, he has made a full recovery, and I was able to return to Britain," Ms Grayson said easily. "Ah, here's Professor Lupin, now."

"I see you have all met Ms Grayson," Professor Lupin said as he came into the room with a large covered cage that rattled and buzzed ominously.

"I've just been giving them a chance to learn a bit about me," she reported. "And now that you've arrived, I'll take my leave."

"Thank you, Elizabeth." He smiled at her back as she waved to the class and retreated up the steps into the Defence Against the Dark Arts office and shut the door behind her.

"Now, let's see what we have here," Professor Lupin said briskly. He set the cage down atop his desk, then tugged the cover off to reveal several small ugly black creatures, all of which looked angry at being caged. They each shook their four fists and kicked their four feet as they buzzed loudly. They had shiny black beetle-like wings, and many of them were flying around, looking for a means of escape, while others simply beat themselves up against the bars.

"Doxies!" the professor announced loudly, so that he could be heard above their noise. "Also called Biting Fairies from time to time, though they are _not_ related to fairies at all."

Connor scowled at the Doxies as they bared their teeth. He had been bitten several times by one of the hateful little beasts when he was seven years old, and his hand had swollen to the size of a Bludger before they'd been able to treat him with the anti-venom.

Connor saw that Professor Lupin noticed his scowl, and that Lupin's lips twitched a bit as he explained the characteristics of Doxies to the class. He had been there when Connor had been bitten, and had been the one to take him to St. Mungo's for treatment. He knew how much Connor disliked that hairy little pests because of it.

They took notes and drew sketches, asking questions and receiving answers until the bell rang. Connor found himself scratching at his hands as they headed up to Gryffindor Tower before heading to the Great Hall for Lunch. He decided it was the memory of the long ago doxy bite that was making his hands itch, now, and ignored the look that Ivy was sending him that clearly said that she thought he ought to go to the Hospital Wing. He wasn't keen to go to Madam Cosgrove, though; he was too hungry to give up his lunch to go to her, only to have her find nothing wrong. His hands looked the same as they always did, and they'd itched worse before, so he wasn't worried.

He collected his Transfiguration book from his trunk and took a few minutes to practice his Occlumency before rejoining his friends. This was the third time today that he'd felt the need to empty his mind and filter everything out, and he reminded himself to send a letter to Clive to find out if he was doing something wrong.

Lunch was full of talk about Quidditch again. Connor saw that Rachel was acting a little nervous about her tryouts, and refusing to eat, but he didn't share her concern. He loaded his plate while telling her that she would do fine. If Tim Nelson, last year's reserve Keeper, hadn't been sitting nearby, he would also have told her that she was good enough to play first team this year, if there wasn't already someone to step into the spot.

After lunch, it was double Transfiguration with Professor Thompson. Normally proficient in Transfiguration, Connor found he was having real trouble with his tortoise. It was stubbornly refusing to even resemble a dinner plate, though he had given it a spectacular case of the hiccups. Quentin smirked at him every time the tortoise made the strange sounds he was sure tortoises were never intended to make.

By the end of the two hours, Connor had gotten rid of the poor animal's hiccups, but had only managed to make it look as though it had been stamped flat by a troll. Even Professor Thompson was slightly alarmed by the sight of it, and intervened when Connor couldn't determine if the tortoise's current state was causing any pain.

Connor scowled at the others as they stacked their plates on the Professor's desk at the end of class. Quentin's even had a nice willow pattern, which earned him a 'well done', versus Connor's extra assignment of an essay on the theory of animal to object Transfiguration.

After class, Connor rushed up to Gryffindor Tower to change into his Quidditch robes and to take a few minutes to occlude before heading down to the pitch. He was becoming frustrated with how quickly his mental defences were breaking down during the day, and wondered if he was missing a step during his Occlumency practice, since it was only taking him a few minutes at a time to occlude, instead of the quarter of an hour or more that it had taken him before coming back to school.

Quentin was changed and ready by the time Connor had finished, and they headed down to the common room to meet up with Rachel and Ivy. There were only a handful of hopefuls trying out for the team, it seemed, and Connor thought that it was probably because the only spots open were for reserve players. Still, a large group of students had come along to watch and lend support to their housemates.

Connor was the first into the air when they reached the pitch, and began flying a few laps around the goal hoops to warm up. It was colder than usual for so early in September - it was hard to believe that he had been home, escaping the summer heat with his friends, only two weeks ago. Ivy soon joined him, and then Rachel. Quentin stood on the pitch, eyeing his broom from the tip of the handle to the bottom of the bristles very carefully before mounting. This would be his first time on his broom since Connor's dad and uncle had tampered with it, and his worry showed on his face.

"C'mon Quint!" Amanda Barton, the other chaser on the Gryffindor first team, called as she rose into the air. "You, me and Connor can get in a few relays before tryouts start."

Quentin nodded and mounted his broom, relieved when it behaved normally. He took it on an easy lap around the pitch and was feeling confident as he approached Amanda and Connor. The trouble didn't start until Quentin signalled his broom to stop, and it halted in mid air so abruptly that he was almost thrown over the end of the handle.

"Whoa!" Amanda called, grabbing at the back of his robes. "What was that all about?"

"I'm not sure," he said, cheeks turning pink. "Connor's dad _modified_ it a bit last week, and this is the first time I've ridden it since."

"Well the brakes certainly work," she replied with a grin. "Why'd they want to go and mess with a perfectly good broom for, anyway? You'd better go through the paces to see what else was changed."

Connor nodded in agreement and watched with a critical eye as Quentin executed a series of jerky turns and stops. He tended to almost spin on the spot when he tried to turn too sharply, but quickly learned to compensate with a simple weight shift.

"It's way more sensitive now," Quentin said. There was no complaint in his voice though, and he had a determined look in his eye. "I bet that once I get used to it, I'll be able to pull off some wicked tricks!"

"Well just be careful," Amanda warned him. "Whitney will be mad if you don't get it under control before practices start."

"I'll work it out," Quentin claimed.

Tryouts began with Whitney called for anyone trying out for the reserve Keeper position to come forward. To her surprise, Rachel was the only one who did, and so she was asked to defend the hoops against an assault by Connor, Quentin and Amanda, all of who were armed with a Quaffle, so that she had to deflect three balls thrown in quick succession. They were impressed when only six Quaffles made it through the hoops in five minutes, and Whitney didn't hesitate to tell her that the reserve position was hers.

Next, the Beater hopefuls were asked to come forward, and were put through their paces. The Chasers flew around the field in different formations, tossing the Quaffle back and forth between them, while the hopefuls for the reserve position took it in turns with Ivy and Brandon O'Toole (a fourth year), who were vying for the spot of Beater on the first team. Aiden Weasley, who was the current remaining Beater, and Whitney both sat on their broomsticks high above to watch and judge who they thought were the best. In the end, Ivy was awarded the spot on first team, and Brandon O'Toole and Jarod Weasley were selected to be reserves.

"Okay, everyone," Whitney called. "We've got both the first and reserve teams full, and our first real practice will start next Wednesday at six. Yes, in the morning!"

A few players groaned, and Quentin quietly complained that he was likely to freeze to death. He hated the cold, and Connor smirked over at him, remembering his complaints from last year. Connor knew the other boy would be practicing his Heating Charms on his clothes all week long.

As they walked back up to the castle for dinner, Whitney fell into step beside Connor and quietly said, "Don't forget that you're under contract, Connor. If you accidentally use your powers during a match, we're out of it."

Connor nodded. When it had come to light the year before that Connor had precognitive abilities, the other team captains had asked that Connor be removed from the Gryffindor team. They had reasoned that they had no way of knowing if he was using his talents to help his team win, and therefore should not be allowed to play at all. The situation had finally been resolved in the form of a magically binding contract which stated that if Connor used his talents for his team's benefit during a match, then Gryffindor would automatically forfeit the match.

"I've got it under control," Connor promised her.

After dinner that night, Connor wrote to Clive Sharpe to ask his advice on how to make his Occlumency practices more enduring. He was sure that with the excitement of the crowd around him, and the probable length of games during which he would not being able to occlude, he was in for a rough time. He needed to get back to a point where he could go for several hours at a time between his Occlumency sessions, even if it took him longer to practice. If his mental defences broke down during a match, the hex on the contract would activate and his skin would turn purple, a telltale sign that he had broken the contract, even accidentally.

The next thing he did was to seek out Professor Lupin. Connor finished his homework and went to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, where he found the professor having a cup of tea with Ms Grayson.

"Good evening, Connor," Ms Grayson greeted kindly, opening the door to his knock.

"Good evening," he answered hesitantly. "I was hoping to speak with Professor Lupin for a moment."

"Of course," she said with a smile. "I'll just leave you alone then, and get back to grading these essays."

She gathered a stack of parchment from the desk and said good night to Professor Lupin before retreating, and Connor sat in the seat she had just vacated.

"How was your first week of classes, Connor?" Lupin asked, leaning back in his chair after perceiving no distress in Connor's demeanour.

"They were good," Connor said. "We had tryouts for Quidditch today. Ivy made first team, Rachel is reserve Seeker, and Jarod is reserve Beater."

Lupin nodded with a smile. "I spoke to Whitney Glendale about it earlier. You'll have a good strong team again this year."

"I hope so," Connor answered. "Actually, that's kind of why I'm here. I'm a bit worried about the contract I signed last year. Now that my precognitive stuff has been so much more, well, _more_."

"Your Occlumency should be taking care of that, for the most part," Professor Lupin said.

"Yeah, well," Connor scratched absently at one of his hands. "It's not lasting so long anymore. It seems like it only takes me a few minutes to occlude, but then it only lasts for a couple of hours before I need to do it again. Before, it took me twenty or thirty minutes and lasted pretty much all day. If I try to wait longer, I get the headaches and all the useless information. I wrote to Mr Sharpe right after dinner to ask him about it, but I thought I should come and talk to you, too, since you were going start going over it with me once a week anyway."

"I'm not really the expert that Mr Sharpe is, but I can see that you definitely need some guidance on it," the professor said. "I can only assume that coming back to school and being surrounded by so much energy is taking its toll. That doesn't explain why it's taking you a shorter amount of time to occlude now, though, does it?"

"I think I'm doing it right," Connor said. "But maybe I'm missing a step somewhere."

"Well there's one way we can find out," Lupin replied easily. "Why don't we go over it together and see what happens. I'll cast a light Legilimens spell on you so that I can sort of follow along and see if I sense anything out of place, so to speak."

Connor nodded, and the professor brought his chair around to face Connor's so that they would both be comfortable. Connor obligingly looked into Professor Lupin's eyes, as he had done with Clive, and allowed the Legilimens spell to be cast. Connor then slowly let the edges of his consciousness blur as the surrounding room fell out of focus. He visualized his blue sky, letting the mental noise envelop him for a moment before pushing it all away. He followed the steps that he had learned over the summer, and carefully filtered out all of the background 'noise' and allowed the puffy white clouds to take shape in his visualization. By the time the professor broke his connection and Connor had come back into awareness of his surroundings, almost forty-five minutes had passed.

"Well I didn't feel anything amiss," Professor Lupin said as Connor rubbed at his dry eyes and yawned widely. "You were certainly thorough."

"It hasn't been working like that for the past couple of days," Connor admitted, feeling frustrated. "That's how it's supposed to work, but it hasn't been."

"Is there anything that you did differently this time than you didn't do last time?"

"Not really," Connor said, thinking back. "I didn't have anyone doing Legilimency on me last time. And I used that ball thingy."

"Ball thingy?"

"Yeah," Connor said, pulling from the pocket of his robes. He held it out for Professor Lupin to inspect, and when he picked it up, it flickered and went blank as it had when Professor Lyra had examined it. Connor waited a moment for it to fill with the swirling smoke again, but it remained blank. "Well, I don't know what it's called. Mr Sharpe gave it to me to help me visualize, and when I hold it," he took it back and held it up to show a flicker, and then a blue sky inside, "that happens. It's what I see when I close my eyes to occlude."

"And so you stare at this instead of closing your eyes and imagining it," Lupin concluded. "Clever."

"Yeah," Connor agreed. "It comes in handy if things start getting to me in class. The professors generally frown on it when you close your eyes and drift out of awareness in the middle of a lesson."

"I can imagine," Lupin said sardonically. "Well I think that the answers must lie somewhere within the differences. Since I won't be available every few hours each day to help you, it's not really practical to try practicing with Legilimency each time again, so I'm going to suggest trying not to depend on that ball so much. Get up extra early in the mornings and go through the whole process just like you did here, without any visual aids. Keep notes on when you practice your Occlumency, how long it takes each time, and how long the effects last before you start becoming aware that it needs to be done again. If it seems like it's a shorter time than the previous ones, make a note of whether or not anything happened to precipitate the need, such as an especially strong vision or premonition. Let's see if we can spot a pattern, all right?"

"All right," Connor agreed. Now that he had managed to fully occlude for a proper amount of time, he felt more at peace and relaxed. "But if I'm still having trouble by the time our first match comes up, will you go through it with me again with the Legilimency, so I don't have any accidents?"

"Of course." Lupin smiled and stood, indicating that Connor should as well. "You let me know when you get a reply from Mr Sharpe, and what he has to say about it. Now I'm going to head home. Nearly an hour of Legilimency has me done in."

"Thank you, Professor," Connor said, and left for the Gryffindor common room feeling much better.

**Author notes: As always, come and check my LJ for replies to your reviews! I answer them all!  
**


	7. Chapter Seven Interesting Lessons

Chapter Seven – Interesting Lessons

_Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great. --Mark Twain_

Quentin had been right - he _could_ do some wicked tricks on his broomstick now that Connor's dad and uncle had 'improved' it.

Connor remembered his father taking him to see a Quidditch match once when he was eight or so, where some stunt flyers had entertained the spectators before the match had begun. They had performed some amazing aerial acrobatics, and Connor had spent a month afterward trying to mimic wild leaps and landings he'd witnessed, though the tether his parents used to make him wear on his ankle had made it somewhat difficult. Quentin's moves reminded him of that now, as he watched his friend jerk to a stop, spin in a ninety-degree angle, and take off again in a matter of seconds.

Quentin had dragged Connor, Zack, Ivy and Rachel outside every day for a week to fly, and was enjoying getting to know his broom again. Ivy had been pleased with the improvements to her own broom as well, finding that it was much more stable than it had been. Now it was less inclined to be thrown off-course or shoved backward by the force of her swing when she hit a Bludger. Zack hadn't really noticed much of a change to his, except that its acceleration was a bit better, and the placement of the cushioning charm had been adjusted to compensate for his change in height since last Christmas. All in all, Gryffindor had some excellent brooms on their team, and it was bound to help them win if they worked hard.

Quidditch practices had begun at six in the morning, three times a week, under the lights around the pitch. Connor had a sneaking suspicion that it was Slytherin house's fault that Gryffindor could only get time on the pitch before sunrise, but there wasn't much anyone could do about it, so he kept quiet.

Every morning, Connor began rising an hour earlier then everyone else, to practice his Occlumency. He was beginning to feel the wear on his system as a result, and often found himself fighting the urge to doze off in the middle of the day.

He followed Professor Lupin's advice and kept notes, doing his Occlumency practice the original way - with no aids. He had only used the charmed ball that Clive had given him twice during the week, when he had felt nagging headaches coming on. It seemed to be working, and he was able to occlude more completely for longer periods of time, with the effects lasting longer. He still needed to occlude at some point in the middle of each day, but it was better than it had been.

Clive had sent him a reply a week after Connor had owled him, giving him the same basic advice as Professor Lupin had. The ball, which Clive wrote was his own creation named the Animus Orb, was not to be used as a crutch, but as an occasional tool. Depending on it too much could cause less complete results, as Connor had evidently found out. He had apologized for not cautioning him before about the possibility. He also told him that if he had any problems that Professor Lupin couldn't advise him on, that he should seek out Professor Lyra, who was a highly skilled Occlumens. This had surprised not only Connor, but apparently Professor Lupin as well, judging by his raised eyebrows.

"I suppose it makes sense," Lupin had said after a few moments thought. "She is a respected Seer, and I would think that she would need to guard herself against outside influences similar to the way you do, Connor."

"I guess," Connor agreed. He remembered how alarmed the Divination Professor had seemed when Connor had told her that he had been learning Occlumency to block out his visions instead of to clarify them. "But I think we're doing okay together so far. Things have gone a lot better since I stopped using the Animus Orb so much."

"You're more comfortable with me." It wasn't a question.

Connor nodded, and Professor Lupin agreed to keep meeting with him once a week or as needed as long as every thing was going well.

Despite Connor's fatigue, he was determined to keep up with is homework, and so the third week of school found Connor as a regular visitor to the Library, researching still more theory for another transfiguration essay that he'd been assigned. He'd been the only one in class to be assigned the essay - this time, for causing a guinea pig to lose all of it's fur and erupt in orange boils when he was supposed to have turned it into teapot. Professor Thompson had assigned the extra work and suggested that Connor have his wand checked for defects. Connor wasn't sure what his hang up was this year; he hadn't had nearly as much trouble with transfiguration last year.

He settled himself at a library table with a small stack of books, wondering where Quentin was. Quentin had promised to come and help with the essay, since he was easily the best of the Gryffindor third years in the subject. Pulling out a sheaf of parchment and his notes from class, Connor prepared to try to figure out where he was going wrong.

"Connor?"

Connor looked up at the sound of his name and was somewhat surprised to find Rupert looking at him with a nervous expression.

"Hello Rupert," Connor said cautiously. This was the first time he had really spoken to the other boy since he had left the train compartment on the way to school weeks ago.

"Listen," Rupert said, looking around as if worried someone might see him. "Some of the older Slytherin boys said, well, they said that Professor Lupin was a werewolf."

"And?" Connor prompted, not really understanding what the problem was. Professor Lupin's condition was hardly a secret, and he almost always made an announcement to each of his classes to remind them that he would not be available the day after the full moon. In fact, he had just made an announcement to Connor's class yesterday, saying that Ms Grayson would be taking over classes on Wednesday, which was tomorrow, while he recovered from his transformation.

"You mean it's true?" Rupert dropped into a chair across from Connor as if the shock was too much for him. "I thought that they were just having me on. You know, make up a ridiculous story and feed it to the first years to wind us up."

"Afraid not," Connor denied. "Tonight's the full moon and he'll need tomorrow, at least, to recuperate. Sometimes it takes him a bit longer, but usually he's back after a day."

"Isn't he dangerous?" Rupert asked, appalled.

"Of course not," Connor answered with a sneer. "Do you really think they'd let anyone really dangerous teach us? He won't even be on school grounds when he changes; he goes home for that. Not to mention all of the potions and stuff he takes to keep him safe."

"But how does it work? What happens to him? How did he become one?" Rupert wanted to know.

"Well you're in a library," Connor told him, wincing a bit as the ancient Madam Pince glared at him for being loud. "Go check out a book on the subject. They probably have quite a few that can explain it all. I'd choose one of the more current ones, since the old ones won't have anything about the Wolfsbane potion or anything like that."

Rupert looked as though he didn't know what to make of that extraordinary statement, so he simply stood and walked away. Connor snorted softly at the Slytherin boy's complete lack of manners and was slightly surprised to hear Rupert approach and ask the vulture-like librarian about books on werewolves. "Gee," Connor muttered softly to himself in derision. "So glad I could help."

"Who are you talking to?" Quentin asked as he walked up and sat down in the chair that Rupert had just been in.

"Myself, apparently," Connor said. "Rupert was just here asking about Professor Lupin."

"What about him?" Quentin asked, turning his head in time to see Rupert disappear into the stacks with the Librarian.

"Full moon tonight. He wanted to know if Professor Lupin was really a werewolf," Connor explained. "He thought it was a joke."

"What'd you tell him?" Quentin asked.

"I told him it wasn't a joke, and to go check out a book about it," Connor said with a shrug. "He'll find out soon enough, I guess."

Quentin agreed, and began to help Connor figure out why his transfiguration was going awry, and to help him with his essay on the theory of animal to object transformation. They were mildly annoyed when Rupert settled himself at a nearby table with a few books and began peppering them with questions ("Does he really crave human flesh?") while they were trying to work, but eventually Rupert spotted one of his housemates and quickly left the library before he could be seen sitting near the Gryffindors.

Connor finished his essay, and they retreated to their common room, where Connor spent the remainder of the time until dinner practicing transfiguring one of his books into a teapot. He didn't have any problems changing objects into objects, so Quentin surmised that his trouble was rooted in the fact that they were dealing with living creatures. He made some suggestions, and came up with a clever plan to allow Connor to practice. _Poultry Pellets_ would provide his friend with a living creature to practice on, at least temporarily. Quentin pointed out that there was no need to feel guilty about changing it, because no matter what happened, it would just turn to ash. Once the life of pellets had run their course, the spell that animated them broke down.

This change of tactics seemed to help, and Connor produced a somewhat feathery teapot within twenty minutes.

"I think your problem is that you feel guilty turning something living into something non-living. You feel like you're hurting or killing the animal or something," Quentin pointed out logically. "But it _doesn't_ hurt them, and they always get changed back."

"Maybe you're right," Connor conceded. "Since I knew that it wasn't really a proper chicken and that it would turn to ash no matter what it did to it, I didn't feel bad about it."

"Connor," Zack, who had been observing, said with a chuckle, "don't you think that it might be doing the animals a favour to change them correctly? I mean, if it's guilt that keeps you from turning animals into objects, how do you think they feel being mutilated instead?"

"Shut up," Connor mumbled, but he couldn't help but chuckle as well. His friends had a point.

At dinner that evening, Connor spotted Rupert at the Slytherin table, immersed in a book, which he repeatedly looked up from to stare at Professor Lupin for a few moments at a time.

Professor Lupin excused himself from the meal rather early, and Connor knew that he would be going to his house in Hogsmeade to prepare for his transformation. He watched the professor walk calmly out of the Great Hall and wondered what tomorrow's Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson would be like with Ms Grayson in charge.

The next morning, Connor left breakfast looking forward to the day ahead. Ms Grayson had been an occasional fixture in their Defence classes since she had arrived at Hogwarts, but they had gotten little time to get to know her very much. For the most part, she handled collecting papers and assisting with any of the creatures that were shown to the class.

The doors to the Defence classroom were already open when the arrived, and Ms Grayson was sitting at the professor's desk, reading over some notes. She smiled at them as they took seats, and didn't seem nervous at all. Once all of them were seated, she stood gracefully and pointed her wand at the black board, which instantly filled with notes and a clever, life-sized drawing of a Pogrebin, similar to the one in their textbook.

"Pogrebins." Her voice was firm and clear and carried easily to the back of the room. "Native to Russia. Ministry classification is that of beast status, despite its slightly humanoid appearance. A competent wizard should be more than equal to the task of dealing with a pogrebin, if the creature is detected. Could anyone here tell me why detecting them might be problematic?"

Several hands shot into the air.

"Miss Montrose?"

Tammy Montrose smiled smugly and answered eagerly. "The pogrebin likes to disguise itself as a shiny rock when people look at it."

"Correct," Ms Grayson answered. She waved her wand at the chalk rendering of the foot-high creature, and it crouched down its hairy body, presenting a bald head that did, indeed, resemble a smooth rock. "Some of you might argue that because the rest of its body is so hairy, crouching down and showing a person the top of its head isn't the most effective camouflage. Anyone care to guess why it works so effectively?"

Fewer hands rose into the air than before.

"Mr Murphy?

"Because the person who sees it won't care?" Bryce answered hesitantly.

The rest of the class giggled a bit about his answer, but Ms Grayson was beaming. "Excellent!" she praised. "Five points to Gryffindor! A person who sees a pogrebin up close will most likely already be under its influence, and probably _wouldn't_ care, even if they recognised it for what it truly was."

The class was busily scribbling notes as Ms Grayson waved her wand that he chalk drawing and the pogrebin stood upright again, showing a row of very sharp teeth and a malevolent grin.

"The reason being," she continued, "is that a pogrebin will track its human prey, following a person for a prolonged period of time by hiding in the shadow of its intended victim. Once a human is exposed to the presence of one of these creatures, usually for many hours, a feeling of futility will being to overtake the victim, and they will begin to feel sluggish and have a great sense of hopelessness and despair. Eventually these feelings will overcome the prey, and they collapse, or simply give up, and the pogrebin will pounce and devour the person unfortunate enough to have succumbed to it."

Connor saw that Geoffrey Smythe, a fellow Gryffindor, had his hand in the air, and the boy asked, "It can't be as easy as that, can it? How could something like that follow you around for hours with you knowing it?"

"It's not as unbelievable as it sounds," Ms Grayson answered wryly. "I was almost the victim of one myself many years ago."

"What happened?" one of the Slytherin boys asked at once.

"I was in Russia doing some research, and had the need to travel through a thickly forested area. The only way through was a narrow path, and there was very little light able to penetrate the trees. I was using my wand to light my way, and got lost several times in the unfamiliar terrain," she explained obligingly. She described the forest and her surroundings so meticulously, that every student was still as they listened to her account. "There were many sounds of birds and animals around, so the footfalls of a stealthy little demon went unnoticed. I was alone, and had a long way to go until I reached the cottage I was looking for. I began to feel discouraged by my inability to find my way through the trees, and the research I was working on had not been producing the results I had been hoping for, I began to think of more and more depressing things, until I finally realized what was happening to me. Fortunately I spotted the pogrebin crouched nearby pretending to be harmless, and was able to repel it easily enough. Who can tell me one of the ways in which to get rid of a pogrebin?"

A few hands shot into the air, and she called on Ivy.

"A stunning spell," Ivy answered confidently.

"Correct. Five points," Ms Grayson smiled. "Anyone else?"

No hands went into the air this time.

"There are a lot of simple hexes that can disable a pogrebin," she told them. "They are not particularly immune to any type of magic used against them."

"How did you escape the one that was after you?" Andrew Tillman asked curiously.

"Ah, well," she answered, blushing a bit. "Kicking them works too." The students laughed at her chagrin. "I kicked it off into the forest somewhere, and felt better almost at once. I will caution you all that you shouldn't attempt to pick one up with your hands; they are prone to eating people, and have very sharp teeth. Anyone who picks one up could very easily find a piece of themselves missing."

The rest of the class was spent taking notes and asking and answering questions. She assigned them a chapter summary for homework, and by the time the bell rang; everyone felt they had enjoyed a thorough and entertaining lesson. They were happy with the substitute that they had been given for Professor Lupin's absence. In past years, Professor McGonagall had overseen many of Professor Lupin's missed lessons, or else Professor Snape was called upon to lend his expertise for a day. No one enjoyed those classes very much, so this turn of events was very welcome.

After class Zack led the way to the doors leading out to the wide lawn that sprawled down to the edge of the forest where they would be meeting for Care of Magical Creatures. He told Connor that he was excited to get a chance to possibly handle a magical creature, and even had a camera in his bag, so he could take a photo to send his parents.

The area for the class was charmed to contain whatever creature was being observed or handled. Connor stepped through the boundary of the containment spell and felt the cold air that had been nipping at his cheeks warm up considerably. Apparently there were other charms at work to keep the enclosure comfortable, and those students who had already arrived had removed their heavy cloaks.

Professor Grubbly plank was standing in the centre of the area, at the base of a thick wooden post, which stood about five metres high. There were two other posts like this, forming a loose triangle, and there were thick ropes strung over and between all of them. A large net hammock was strung between two of the posts, and Connor could see a group of clabberts huddled together inside. Their skin was smooth and strangely mottled in various shades of green, and would obviously blend well with surrounding foliage in the wild.

From his vantage point, Connor could see that the creatures seemed to be petting each other with webbed hands and he wondered if this was their way of staying calm or comforting each other at the sight of so many humans suddenly gathering around them.

"Welcome students, welcome," the professor called out to them once they had all arrived. "Gather around. You can see that these animals prefer to be above the ground, and that they are communal and social. Go ahead and get your books out. Turn to page thirty-nine while I attempt to coax one or two of them down for a better look.

Connor reached into the bag that he had slung over his shoulder. He pulled out _Magical Creatures: From Flippers to Fur_, and began riffling through the pages. He was shocked when he heard Professor Grubbly-Plank shout, "Keep still!" He looked up just in time to feel a heavy weight fall solidly on his head and shoulders. His knees nearly buckled under the impact of the clabbert that had just leapt from the hammock to his back. A webbed hand suddenly smacked him in the cheek, and he could feel another one gripping his left ear none too gently as the animal hoisted itself up to sit at the nape of Connor's neck.

"Just stay calm, Mr Potter," the professor instructed in a non-threatening voice. "She won't hurt you; she just wants to see what you're about. No sudden moves, and try not to talk loudly."

"Okay," Connor murmured just above a whisper.

He could see that Zack was grinning at him, camera in hand, and some of the other students in his view (which was impeded by a mottled green arm) were smiling uncertainly. There was a sudden gasp as Connor took the brunt of another clabbert landing on him, and then some giggles as the first one moved aside obligingly for the other one to settle itself. Connor could feel them clinging to his head by his hair and ears, and they were moving about a bit, one on each of his shoulders, petting his head at the same time.

"Remarkable," the professor said. "As you can see, now that the specimens have moved from their perch, these animals resemble monkeys that have blended with frogs. They have many of the same characteristics as monkeys, in that they like to swing from tree to tree and live among the branches. However, they are uniquely their own species."

At least they look happy," one of the Ravenclaw girls observed.

"They always look that way," the professor told them all seriously. "You'll notice that it appears to be smiling at all times, and when it shows its teeth, there, you see? Very sharp teeth, indeed. You'll also notice that the pustules on their foreheads are not pulsing with light, which means that they do not view Mr Potter as a threat."

Connor was staring in disbelief at his teacher. Was she really going to calmly give her lecture while these things wrestled with each other on his shoulders? Apparently she was. Connor tried to listen to her commentary, but found having clabberts socializing on his shoulders was a bit distracting. Luckily they weren't overly heavy, so at least he was spared having to strain to remain standing.

While Grubbly-Plank continued pointing out the stubby horns on the animals' heads, one of the clabberts scaled down the side of Connor's body, clinging nimbly to his robes and began searching through his pockets. The little scoundrel gave a screech of delight that made Connor jump when it found the two small apples that Connor had hidden in his pocket at breakfast time. The inquisitive clabbert threw one of the apples to it's companion, who caught it by trapping it against Connor's forehead with a _thunk_, then they both settled back on his shoulders to enjoy their snack. Connor ignored the laughter of the other kids as apple juice ran down his face at the point of impact.

"Now this is somewhat unusual," the professor said indulgently.

_Only somewhat?_ Connor thought to himself as more juice and bits of apple speckled his face from the messy eating habits of his 'guests'.

"Most clabberts only eat fruits or vegetables when their normal diet of small lizards or birds proves elusive. They are being well-fed while in our care, so I can only assume that their regular keepers feed them apples from time to time."

Professor Grubbly-Plank didn't seem the least bit concerned when the remaining three clabberts scurried down one of the wooden posts and mobbed Connor, searching his clothing for more apples. One of them scaled his trouser leg, causing Connor to squirm a bit, and he was relieved when it climbed out from under his robes again fairly quickly.

Another clabbert climbed into his school bag and expelled all its contents onto the ground before settling comfortably inside and munching happily on a chocolate frog it had found inside, wrapper and all. Thinking it might be unhealthy for the animal to actually swallow the wrapping and trading card, Connor attempted to take it from the clabbert, but hastily pulled his hand away when the thing hissed threateningly at him before going back to it's treat. Still another clabbert grabbed Connor's hand and licked it methodically, coating his entire hand with slimy saliva.

"Eeeew," Connor moaned, mindful to keep his voice low. He saw that Zack was only so quiet, because he lacked the breath to laugh any louder. Most of the class were in various stages of mirth, and the professor looked delighted by this turn of events. He stood still resignedly when another one seized his opposite hand and treated it to the same disgusting bath.

The professor continued to lecture while the objects of their lesson investigated Connor. It took nearly thirty minutes before the clabberts tired of him, for the most part. Aside from the one residing happily in his schoolbag, the other clabberts moved jubilantly from student to student, sniffing at their clothes and bags. When it was discovered that no other food was to be forthcoming, they retreated to the large poles and began to swing spiritedly back and forth on the ropes, high in the air.

Zack managed to get his laughter under control long enough to perform a scouring charm on Connor's hands, and they spent the rest of the class period taking notes. Finally, Connor gathered the items scattered around the ground, and asked Professor Grubbly-Plank to remove the now-sleeping clabbert from his schoolbag.

The professor smiled as she awarded Gryffindor fifteen points for Connor's good-natured handling of the clabberts and they headed back up to the castle, while everyone teased Connor a bit about his animal magnetism. They all agreed that it had been a good lesson.

They stopped off at the loo so that Connor could wash his face and headed to the Great Hall for lunch. After Zack had finished regaling their friends with the story about the clabberts, Connor had an idea.

"Hey guys," he said, glad to change the subject. "We've been here almost an entire month, and we haven't really done anything with the map." None of them needed him to say the words "Marauder's Map" to know what he was referring to. "We've got the afternoon free, well, all of us but Rachel, we should get together to plan something."

"Sounds good," Ivy agreed. "Library at three?"

"I'll stop and pick up the map after Divination," Connor told them.

"I'll meet you when I get out of History of Magic," Rachel added eagerly.

"Yeah…" Connor said. "You'll want to avoid the corridor leading to the Hospital Wing. Three Slytherins are going to have an unpleasant experience there."

The brief look of revulsion that came over Connor's face was enough to convince them that they wouldn't want to witness whatever was going to happen.

"Thanks for the warning," Rachel said. The History of Magic classroom was very close to the hospital wing. "You'd better go and occlude before class, if you're picking up stuff like that."

"Right," Connor agreed. He nearly stuck some biscuits in his pocket for later, before remembering that the clabberts had been pawing in there earlier. He could clearly hear his mother's voice in his head.

"Not only is it unsanitary to store food in your pockets in the first place," she told him sternly, "an animal had its hands them! It doesn't bear thinking about what diseases might be lurking in there!"

His hands were itching as well, and he didn't know if it was due to clabbert saliva or his regular itching. "I need to go back to get the right books, anyway, " Connor said. "See you at class, Ivy."

Ivy nodded, and Connor gathered his bag and headed for Gryffindor Tower, still munching on a biscuit as he went.

He ended up being a few minutes late for Divination and as a result, ended up having to partner with Garrison Palmer. Garrison was a bit strange, and tended to be confused a lot whenever any of the professors asked him a question. Connor had observed him idly drawing random pictures on his parchment instead of taking notes before. He thought that having to partner up with him was punishment enough, without the five points that Professor Lyra deducted for his tardiness.

Connor became frustrated with Garrison's disinterest in the lesson as Professor Lyra gave directions. It was to be their last class dealing with Ceromancy, which entailed melting wax in a brass bowl. The heated wax is then poured into cold water, forming shapes with the cooled wax to be interpreted. Even if Connor thought that whole practice was rubbish, he was sure that they were going to be tested on it eventually, and Garrison wasn't even attempting to melt the small block of wax in the bowl in front of him as directed. It was going to be a long lesson.

While Connor listened to the other, more enthusiastic, students trying to interpret their wax formations, he watched Garrison waste as much time as humanly possible. Finally Connor lost his patience and demanded, "Look, why are you even taking this class?"

The other boy looked surprised at the question, and finally looked away from Connor, pretending to rummage in his school bag for something. With a sigh, Connor finally shoved the bowl of cold water over in front of Garrison and snatched up the brass bowl, using his wand to melt the wax. He had just finished, when his partner suddenly snatched up the melted wax and began to pour it into the bowl of cold water in front of him.

"Very good, Mr Palmer," Professor Lyra praised from behind Connor. "Well done."

Connor looked furiously at the other boy, who refused to meet his eyes. "What the heck was that all about?" he demanded in an angry hiss as the teacher moved away.

Garrison only peered into the water at the blob of wax floating there.

"Well?" Connor asked loudly and impatiently.

"Well what?" the boy finally snapped waspishly. "It's not like it's going to affect your grade, Mr Tell-The-Future. You're bound to get a good grade in this class, aren't you?"

"You think it's okay to take credit for my work because I can see stuff sometimes?" Connor was incredulous, and didn't bother to keep his voice down. "I don't think so! You just sit here making stupid little drawings and staring off into space, and then when the teacher looks your way, you make it look like you're doing all the work!"

"Shut up!" Garrison whispered fiercely. "She'll hear you! What does it matter which one of us poured the wax in? We're supposed to be partners!"

"Good! I hope she does hear us, because the only time you do anything at all is when she's around!" Connor exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. He didn't know if he was blowing the whole thing out of proportion, but he felt very angry to have been played for a fool because of his so-called gift. "No wonder nobody ever wants to sit with you in this class! Do you pull this type of stunt on everyone?"

"I said shut up!" Garrison repeated, his face turning red. "You're going to get us in trouble!"

"Oh, I'd say you don't have to be a Seer to predict that," Professor Lyra had apparently returned at the disruption, and heard their argument.

Connor had been so involved in his anger that he hadn't noticed the professor approaching. Garrison looked mortified, his face draining of all colour, as he spluttered. "Potter here is trying to claim that I'm not doing the work!" he defended. "Afraid that someone else might show some talent for divination, if you ask me. It's ridiculous!"

"Everyone continue with your interpretations," the professor announced to the class, who was looking curiously in the direction of the arguing boys. She lowered her voice and said, "The two of you will come with me."

Connor and Garrison stood side by side in front of Professor Lyra's desk, waiting for her to pass judgment. While Connor still felt angry at the ruse Garrison was playing at, he didn't _really_ want to cause this much trouble for the other boy, or for himself. He did think, however, that he had found his first victim for them to use the Marauder's Map on.

"Which one of you would like to explain yourselves first?" the professor asked calmly.

"I don't know what Potter's problem is," Garrison began. "He melted the wax, and then I poured…."

The other boy launched into his complaint, but Connor didn't really hear him. The words sounded muffled to him for a moment, and then faded all together. A sudden realization came to Connor as he stood stiffly in front of the desk, and when he came back to himself, it was to find Garrison scowling at him, and Professor Lyra looking at him with interest.

"Do you have anything to add to this?" she asked him quietly.

"Yes, ma'am," Connor replied, but he was looking at Garrison. "At first I thought that Palmer was just slacking off, and making me do all of the work. I've seen him at it before, and then suddenly he saw you coming to our table, and tried to look busy."

"You said '_at first_'," the professor prompted. "But not now?"

Connor shook his head, and Garrison looked at him strangely. "No ma'am, I don't. I think that his real problem is that he can't hear; at least not very well. I think that he's been getting by in class by reading the book and watching what everyone else is doing. Maybe even reading lips."

The professor's eyes swung over to the Hufflepuff boy, and she lifted a brow enquiringly. Garrison was standing even more stiffly than before, and his face was flushed. "So what?" he asked defensively. "I'm still getting a passing grade, aren't I?"

"Barely," the professor agreed. "Why haven't you told anyone about this?"

"My mum knows," he mumbled.

"And?"

"And she can't afford for me to see a healer," he muttered resentfully. "My dad left two years ago, and we've not had much money since."

Compassion filled the professor's eyes, and she nodded. "Well I think that you'll do better if you go and see Madam Cosgrove and have her look at you. I'm astounded that you haven't gone to her before now."

"My mum hates Madam Cosgrove," the boy admitted miserably. "She and my mum are second cousins, and their families have never gotten along."

"Nevertheless," the professor pointed out, "Madam Cosgrove doesn't hate _you_. She is a professional, and very capable. You are a student, and she will do everything in her power to help you, no matter what her private feelings are."

Professor Lyra took out a sheet of parchment and wrote a note to the matron. She sent Garrison off to the hospital wing with a firm order to stay there until he was seen. She promised him that she would be checking to make sure that he had gone, and the boy gathered his things and left the classroom with an uncertain expression.

"Well done, Connor," Professor Lyra praised, sending him back to his desk. "There won't be any need to mention Mr Palmer's personal circumstances to anyone else - is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Connor answered. "I understand." And he did. His own mother had grown up in a home where money had always been tight, and he knew that Garrison must be feeling awfully embarrassed about now.

"Ten points to Gryffindor." She smiled at him as she turned back to monitor the rest of the class.

"What was all that about?" Ivy asked Connor twenty minutes later, as they headed back to Gryffindor Tower. "You and Palmer were arguing, and the she sent him off with a note. Did she send him to his head of house?"

"To Professor Wexler?" Connor asked. "No. She sent him to the Hospital Wing to get looked over. He wasn't feeling right, and I guess I lost my temper when he wasn't doing his share. I feel kind of bad about it now."

_Not a bad improvisation_, Connor thought when Ivy simply nodded. They dropped off their books in their rooms, and Connor tucked the map into his bag. He supposed it wouldn't do to use Garrison as their first victim, now, but he was sure they'd think of something.

Zack and Quentin were waiting for them in their usual corner of the library and were talking about the things that Quentin had been learning in Muggle Studies class.

"How was divination?" Quentin asked as they sat down.

"Connor got into a fight," Ivy announced. "Garrison Palmer."

"Is he that Hufflepuff who's always staring at other people?" Zack asked. "He's in my Ancient Runes class, and he seems a bit odd."

"That's him," Ivy said.

"So what happened?" Quentin wanted to know.

Connor sighed and related his story, leaving out the bit about Garrison's father leaving, and his mother having no money.

"So you had a precognitive premonition that he wasn't hearing right?" Zack asked.

"Sort of," Connor explained. "It was kind of like I went deaf for a moment, and then I just knew what his problem was."

"Connor!" Ivy cried. "What have you done to your hands?"

Connor looked down to see that his hands were an angry red, and covered in scratch marks. He vaguely recalled scratching at them in divination, but they weren't bothering him now. "They're fine," he answered evasively. "I went to Madam Cosgrove, and she couldn't find anything wrong with them."

"You should go and see her again, if you're feeling the need to practically rip the skin off them!" she admonished sternly.

"Madam Cosgrove is going to be pretty busy soon," Connor said. "And they don't itch right now, so there's no point."

He pulled out the map to divert their attention and they spread it out on the table. They looked around before Ivy activated it, and they watched as the lines spread themselves out across its surface.

"Look," Ivy pointed. "Palmer's still in the Hospital Wing."

Sure enough, a tiny dot labelled 'Garrison Palmer' was situated in the matron's office, and another marked 'Grace Cosgrove" was very near to him. They observed Rachel in History of Magic, and noticed that Professor Lupin was in the Headmistress's office with Professor McGonagall and Ms Grayson.

"Uncle Remus must be feeling better," Connor observed. "He wouldn't be back at the school if it had been a rough transformation.'

"Moonset was at half-six this morning," Quentin said. "That's awfully fast for him to have recovered, isn't it?"

"It seems like it," Connor agreed. "But I've seen him only a couple of hours after moonset once or twice. He's weak and stuff, but he seems okay."

There was a sudden movement to Connor's left, and he turned his head in time to see someone step back behind a stack of books, trying to hide. He stood up, relieved to hear Zack whispering, "Mischief Managed." He darted suddenly around the stack of books and smiled grimly at Rupert Dursley. He grabbed the younger boy by the arm when it looked like he was about to run.

"What are you doing spying on us? Why aren't you in class?" Connor demanded. He didn't trust this particular 'cousin' at all.

"I wasn't! We were released early!" Rupert insisted, yanking his arm away and straightening his robes. "I was looking for a book!"

Connor simply stared at the other boy until he fidgeted.

"Is that, that _werewolf_ really your uncle?" Rupert finally asked. "My dad said that your dad didn't have any other family, and that's why he had to live with Grandmum and Granddad. How could you have an uncle?"

Connor didn't like the way Rupert said the word _werewolf_, but let it pass for now. "It's an honorary title," he answered. "Because he and my father are so close. He's known me since I was born."

"Your parents let a werewolf around you when you were a baby?" Rupert asked in disbelief. An ugly smile was playing around his lips by now. "My father was right; you lot _are_ crazy."

"You want to watch your mouth, Rupert," Connor warned in a low voice. "My dad might not have had a lot of family growing up, but _I've_ got plenty. You don't want to make us mad, unless you really enjoy spending a lot of time in your common room."

"You can't threaten me!" Rupert said, but he looked distinctly uneasy.

Connor laughed out loud when Aiden Weasley walked up behind Rupert and said, "All right there, Connor?" Rupert practically jumped out of his skin and whirled around to stare at Aiden as if he were the devil himself.

"All right," he answered with a grin. "I was just telling Rupert here how useful it is to have a lot of family around."

Aidan seemed to cotton on to what Connor was implying, and smiled back. "No doubt. You'd have to be mad to mess with a family like ours, wouldn't you?"

Rupert's eyes widened. He stammered out an excuse to leave and hurried out of the library.

"Any particular reason you're trying to make that piglet wet himself?" Aiden asked conversationally as they watched his retreat.

"I didn't like how he was talking about Lupin," Connor answered. "He seems to have picked up some very Slytherin ideas about werewolves really quickly."

"Well from what I've heard, most of the Slytherins don't like Rupert much, either, though he does seem to have a couple of dimwits that usually follow him everywhere. It's a wonder they can even find the Great Hall," Aiden informed him.

"I noticed," Connor said, thinking of the short, unfortunately named, Xerxes Xanatos and the stringy, sour-looking Willem Burns that usually sat near Rupert at meals. "Rupert's clever enough when he wants to be. I imagine his friends are the same."

"Anyway," Aiden said dismissively. "Let me know if you need any help with him. Whitney sent me to tell you that our next practice is going to be at eight o'clock Friday night, instead of six in the morning. She's got something going on that morning."

"Okay." Personally, Connor didn't care why it had been postponed, as long as it meant he could sleep a little later that morning. "I'll tell Ivy and Quentin. Rachel should be here soon, too."

"Thanks," Aiden said, and punched him affectionately on the arm before departing.

Connor went back to the table where his friends were waiting anxiously.

"We just saw Rupert running out. Did he see the map?" Ivy asked at once.

"I don't think so," Connor said. "But he was listening to us. He really has some sort of hang up about werewolves, and he heard me call Professor Lupin 'Uncle Remus.' I had to explain why he shouldn't say nasty things about him around me."

Zack activated the map once more and almost immediately spotted three Slytherins standing at the mouth of the Hospital Wing, and Madam Cosgrove hurrying in their direction. "Something they ate," Connor said with distaste. A moment later, they heard the bell dismissing the final class of the day ring and watched as Rachel's dot left the History of Magic room and detoured away from the direction of the infirmary toward a secret passage that would take her to the fourth floor, where the library was located. They watched her progress through the castle and were smiling at her when she arrived.

"Saw you coming," Quentin said.

"So have you all planned anything yet?" she asked, dropping her bag unceremoniously on the ground before taking a seat.

"No, but I think I know who we should prank first," Zack answered.

"Who?" Connor and Rachel asked at once.

"Rupert, of course," Zack answered. "He's practically begging for it!"

"Do you have anything in particular in mind?" Quentin asked with a smile. It was obvious that he thought that Rupert made a perfect target.

"I'm not sure," Zack considered. "It should be something simple, but effective."

"Well I can think of one thing," Rachel told them. "I found this charm in a book I got when we bought our school things. I haven't tried it yet, but I think it could be just the thing."

"What is it?" Ivy asked eagerly.

"It's a pretty complicated charm," Rachel warned.

"Zack's brilliant at charms," Ivy announced at once.

Connor pretended not to notice Zack's pink cheeks. "That's true. Best in our year."

"Well the first thing we need to do is wind him up," Rachel said conspiratorially. "We need to make him believe that there's a curse on something he's already come into contact with. We could maybe startle him into bumping into one of the suits of armour or something…."

They plotted out their little prank, and Zack looked through Rachel's charm book to see if he would be able to perform the necessary spell. Once they came up with a plan, they knew that they would have to wait for the right opportunity. They watched the map to see where Rupert had gone. Unfortunately for them, he was in his own dorm room and didn't appear to be moving at all, so they retreated to Gryffindor tower to do their homework and to plot some more.

They couldn't believe their luck when they spotted Rupert after dinner, lurking alone behind a statue of Godric Gryffindor in an out-of-the-way alcove off of the entrance hall. They decided that they might not get a better chance, and so Zack positioned himself at the right angle and prepared to cast the charm.

"Rupert!" Connor said, pretending to have just noticed him in passing. "What are you doing?" He tried to infuse his voice with a touch of alarm. "No! Don't touch that!"

Rupert jumped, startled, and grabbed a hold of the statue to balance himself.

"Oh Rupert, you didn't touch that statue did you?" Ivy asked, sounding concerned as she approached.

"So what if I did?" he asked in an angry tone.

"You're not wearing any red or gold are you?" Rachel asked.

"Only a gold watch," Rupert answered, shoving back his sleeve to show off the expensive timepiece.

"But you don't have anything with red on it, right?" Ivy asked, keeping her tone anxious.

"Well there's red on the crest on my robes, isn't there?" he asked, beginning to sound wary.

This was the cue that Zack had been waiting for and he cast the charm as quietly as he could, using careful aim. The beam of gold light hit Rupert in the leg, and he never even noticed it! Connor had, though, and he quickly announced, "I wish I was a Gryffindor!"

"What are you talking about?" Rupert asked, bewildered. "You _are _a Gryffindor!"

"Well, you're right of course," Connor agreed with a chuckle.

"So what was all this about? Me wearing red or gold and touching the statue?" Rupert asked.

"Oh," Rachel said. "It's just that this statue is supposed to be jinxed. Anyone who touches it while wearing red and gold will, well, you'll find out soon enough I suppose."

"You're all mad!" Rupert claimed, moving away from them.

They all just shrugged and watched him begin to walk away.

"Hey, Rupert," Zack said as he passed the boy.

"I wish I was a Gryffindor!" Rupert announced at once, repeating the first thing he had heard since the spell had hit him.

Zack raised an eyebrow at the other boy and said, "Well it's a bit late for that, isn't it?'

"I didn't mean to say that!" Rupert swore in astonishment.

"Ah," Zack said, as if everything suddenly made complete sense. "You touched the statue, didn't you?"

Rupert looked panicked as he fled down the corridor. They waited until he was out of earshot before they burst into laughter and went to study before the third years had to go to Astronomy class at midnight.

"How long will the charm last?" Ivy asked as they climbed the steps.

"About two days," Rachel replied happily.

Their laughter echoed through the entrance hall as they went back to their common room.

**A/N - thanks so much to my betas, who keep me on track - and especially to Brenna and (special guest beta) April, who helped me out in a pinch. Any mistakes you find in this chapter are mine - put in after it was proofread.**

**I am posting this a day early because my kids are sick and need my attention - I may not have gotten a chance to post tomorrow in between doctor's visits and Christmas preparations!**

**I hope that everyone has a safe and happy holiday season, for whichever holiday you celebrate! If you'd like to give me a gift, I'd love a review! (hint hint!) **

**I reply to all reviews (even the not nice ones) on my LJ - link to it on my bio page!**


	8. Chapter Eight Strange Accidental Magic

**Chapter Eight – Strange Accidental Magic**

_A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born. --Antoine de Saint Exupery_

The next day, Connor learned that the charm that they had cast on Rupert was the source of great mirth among the Gryffindors, and great annoyance among the Slytherins. Evidently, no amount of counter spells had worked to reverse the automatic utterance of, "I wish I was a Gryffindor!" every time anyone spoke Rupert's name.

Rupert's housemates had almost assaulted him when it first began, until he explained to them that it wasn't voluntary. No one had ever heard of that particular statue being cursed before, but they couldn't deny Rupert's compulsion to blaspheme against his own house was the work of a jinx that even Professor Snape had not been able to cure him of.

Connor also knew, from overhearing one of the other Gryffindors talking, that Professor Lupin (looking tired and a bit ragged) had heard about the prank that morning at breakfast. He looked over at Connor and his friends speculatively, but Connor determinedly did not look in his direction, for fear of giving them all away.

Connor chanced a look at the high table later during the meal, to see Professor McGonagall hiding a smile in her napkin, as students called out Rupert's name repeatedly just to hear him make a fool of himself against his will. Professor Lupin and some of the other teachers were looking warily at Professor Snape's sour expression, even as their own lips twitched.

Connor knew that Professor Flitwick could have easily countered the jinx, but was not complaining that the little professor had not come forward to offer to help.

Luckily for the third year Gryffindors, their Potions lesson that afternoon was one of theory and lecture. Professor Snape was in a very bad mood, and no one was in any doubt as to why. They did not have to risk the professor's wrath if they made a mistake with a potion, at least, and were fine since they kept their heads down and quietly took notes. He still found a way to deduct points from them, of course, but it could have been much, much worse.

The next day, Connor made sure to practice his Occlumency completely and thoroughly before classes began. He had double Divination to start with, Defence Against the Dark Arts before lunch, then double Transfiguration after that - a long day for him. He wouldn't have time for more than a brief period of meditation later in the day should he need it, so it was important to do it correctly the first time.

He gathered his books and homework, and wrestled his quill away from Circe. Ivy's kneazle had managed to make her way into his dorm room, and batted his best quill under the bed with playful paws.

He glanced over his Transfiguration essay and hoped that he had most of his problems with animal-to-object transformations sorted out. He wanted to catch up to the rest of the class quickly, and now that Quentin was helping him, he thought he had a good chance.

At breakfast, he shoved a large orange and a bun that he wrapped in a bit of spare parchment into his pocket, and just grinned when Zack shook his head.

"No Care of Magical Creatures today," Connor said happily. "I don't have to worry about being attacked by wild animals."

Connor and Ivy managed to get seats together in Divination, and Connor noted that Professor Lyra spoke briefly to Garrison when the other boy arrived, smiling widely at him when he answered her. Connor guessed that Madam Cosgrove had been able to help the boy, despite his Garrison's fear that she wouldn't want to treat him.

Professor Lyra greeted the class, and explained that they would begin palmistry today, working on it through the end of October.

"Palmistry is the very much like the art of map-reading. It takes skill, a discerning eye, and an understanding of the nuances involved. The lines in one's hand are very much like a map, that can tell a skilled reader what the general future holds."

Professor Lyra was standing in front of a poster as large as herself, which depicted a human hand, with tiny labels on hundreds of lines over its surface. It did look very much like a map. "Aside from the lines on the palm, there can be scars, bruises, scratches; all of these can play a role into what a skilled palm reader can tell you about yourself. Very few are skilled enough in this art to read the near future in a person's palm. For the amateur, it is a general outline of the path your life could take. The lines in your hands can change with age and experience, and the future is never set in stone, as I've told you before. If you look at a newborn's hands, you will see that they are virtually unlined; the lines etch themselves with age and experience."

The class was spent taking notes, and staring at their own hands occasionally as the professor lectured. Of all of the forms of divination that they had talked about this month, this one seemed to make the most sense to Connor, since it didn't rely on indistinct shapes or guessing as much as others seemed to. Either the lines were there or they weren't - simple. Who knew that the human hand could hold so many?

After divination there was a break, where Connor and Ivy met up with Quentin and Zack in the courtyard. Rupert was outside also, looking furious as all of the Gryffindors called his name, to hear him announce his desire to be in their house.

"Who would have guessed that Rupert would have ended up being so popular?" Zack said with a laugh in his voice.

Connor pulled the bun and the orange from breakfast out of his pocket, and offered the bun to Quentin. Connor peeled and ate the fruit happily, while watching Rupert scowl, and feeling slightly sorry that the charm on Rupert would wear off tonight.

For the remainder of the break, Zack tried to convince his friends that they could really make others believe that the statue of Godric Gryffindor really was cursed. He proposed using the map to hide out and wait for unwitting Slytherins to come by, but Quentin pointed out that they would soon be caught, because one of them would have to be on hand to feed the jinxed person the phrase they were bound to say at the mention of their own names. Zack said that he was convinced it could be done, and that he just had to think about it for a while.

"We could try it on Snape," Zack enthused eagerly.

"Thanks, but I don't have a death wish," Ivy said. "And I think any student foolish enough to prank Snape to do anything against his will is asking for a painful end."

"We got him good last year," Quentin reminisced.

The previous year, Connor and his friends had played a prank on Professor Snape when they had first come into possession of the Marauder's Map. It had been their inaugural prank with the map, and had turned out well. They had situated themselves in a group at a point that they knew Snape would pass (since they had sent word he was needed upstairs), and played out a rehearsed scene. When he had passed them, they had used a secret passage to beat him to the next floor, and had played out their little scene again. They had repeated the scene several times on different floors as he passed, and Professor Snape had finally approached them. It had been great fun to act as though they didn't know what he was talking about when confronted.

"It would be fun to do that one again, just on one floor, to keep him on his toes," Ivy said with a gleam in her eyes. "Does anyone remember everything we did and said?"

"I think Rachel had it written down somewhere," Connor answered as they went back inside for their next class. "She might still have it."

In Defence Against the Dark Arts class, they were pleasantly surprised to see Ms Grayson standing beside Professor Lupin's desk, talking quietly with the professor. She usually excused herself to Lupin's office when the students began to arrive, and only joined them if she was needed during class. Connor took a seat at the front of the room, wondering if she would be teaching them some more today.

Neither the professor nor Ms Grayson seemed overly concerned that one of the covered cages on a nearby table was shaking and had high-pitched squeals coming from inside of it.

Almost as soon as he sat down, Connor noticed that his hands were itching rather badly. He tried to ignore it as best he could when Professor Lupin stood up and greeted the class, removing the cover from the squealing cage and announcing that they would be studying Nogtails. Nogtails were demons that looked like abnormally long-legged piglets, and put a blight on any farm where it resided.

Connor tried valiantly to pay attention, but found that his hands were itching so badly now, that he felt it would be a relief if he could only drag them down the rough stone of the classroom walls.

"Connor?"

Connor looked up to see Ms Grayson standing beside him, looking concerned. He had been clawing at his hands under his desk, but she put a stop to that by simply seizing his arm and pulling his hand into view. Her gasp caught the attention of Professor Lupin, who stopped mid-sentence and turned his head to see what the problem was. Connor's hands were covered in angry red furrows, and he had actually broken the skin in a couple of places on the backs of his hands with his own fingernails.

"Hospital wing, Connor," he ordered without hesitation. "Immediately."

Connor nodded without argument, and shoved his things into his bag feeling relieved. He knew that as fast as the itching had started, and as fast as it had gotten nearly unbearable, he needed help.

With a short glance toward his worried-looking friends, he left the classroom. He tried hard to keep from mangling his own hands in an effort to get some relief, and hurried along the corridor. He passed the Muggle Studies and the History of Magic classrooms before turning into the Hospital Wing. The itching had lessened somewhat on his walk, but returned in force as he waited for Madam Cosgrove to tend to a student with a badly bruised head.

"I'll be with you in a moment, Mr Potter," the matron said briskly. "What are you…."

She turned to glance at him, and saw that his hands were seeping blood even as he continued to scratch viciously at them.

"Hold out your hands," she ordered sternly. "_Obvolvo!_"

Connor watched as a yellow beam flashed from her wand and surrounded his extended hands. When the light faded, he found that each of his hands was enveloped in thick gauze, making it impossible for him to scratch. He scowled at her, but she only returned to ministering to the Ravenclaw with a big purple goose egg on his head. She was applying some sort of gooey black paste, which looked like tar, to the bump.

"What happened to you?" Connor asked the boy, who looked like he could be a first year.

"Accident with levitation in Charms class," he boy answered glumly.

"Enough of that," The matron said, and gestured with a shooing motion for Connor to leave her to her patient.

With a heavy sigh, Connor sat on a nearby chair and shook his hands out of sheer irritation. The itching was maddening! The medi-witch administered a smoking potion to the slightly dazed-looking Ravenclaw, and sent him into a small dimly lit room to lie down while the potion did its work.

When she returned, Madam Cosgrove faced Connor with her hands on her hips. "If I remove the bandages, can you refrain from scratching?"

Connor had been in the process of trying to use his teeth to free the gauze, so that he could resume digging at his hands, but nodded at the question. What could she really do to stop him?

"Don't make me put you in a body bind to keep you from doing more damage," she warned, answering his unspoken question. She pointed her wand once more, and muttered, "Finite."

The bandages fell away, and Connor bit his lower lip hard in an effort to keep himself still, and not to howl with misery. There was no obvious rash, and the only markings were those he had made himself earlier. He waited, squirming in place, as the matron performed what seemed like an endless array of diagnostic charms. Madam Cosgrove seemed to become more and more frustrated as she failed to find what was causing such extreme discomfort. Connor was thinking of increasingly drastic ways to relieve the itch. Maybe submerging his hands in boiling water? It seemed that the resulting pain would almost be worth it to be rid of such torture.

"_Prurio Quiesco," _was the last thing that Madam Cosgrove muttered, and Connor felt a slight relief from the itching. They were still irritating him, but it didn't seem as urgent as it had only a moment ago.

"Can't you make it stop all the way?" he groaned at Madam Cosgrove a little desperately. "It's never been this bad before!"

"All of my diagnostic charms are coming up normal," she said testily. "This is going to take some research."

"How long will _that_ take?" Connor was trying to surreptitiously rub his hands against the chair he was in.

"As long as it takes to find out what's wrong with you!" she snapped. Apparently she didn't like not being able diagnose him. "Stop that! Where were you when this started?"

"Defence class," he answered.

"You're a third year," the matron said, more to herself than to Connor. "That would mean you're studying Dark Creatures."

"Yes ma'am," Connor answered.

"Did you handle any today?" she asked.

"No, but there was a Nogtail in a cage in the room."

"But you didn't touch it? Have you handled any other animals, or anything out of the ordinary today?" she asked. "My tests didn't detect any allergic reactions, but we'd do well to eliminate anything obvious."

"No, I didn't touch it. I haven't touched any animals, except a kneazle, since Wednesday," Connor told her.

"Two days ago. What did you touch on Wednesday?" she queried, picking up a quill and a clipboard and beginning to take notes.

"Some Clabberts," Connor replied, recalling how the apples in his pockets had attracted them. "They, er, took a liking to me. They licked both of my hands. A lot."

"Well, Clabberts are harmless enough. There was no itching immediately after they licked you?" the matron asked, steadily scratching away with her quill.

Connor answered what seemed like dozens of questions, all the while trying to scratch at his hands without appearing to do so. She spelled his hands again, to help bring the itching to a tolerable level, but it didn't help much.

The Ravenclaw boy emerged at one point, and was sent back to class, the black goo apparently gone. Madam Cosgrove consulted four different healing texts while Connor waited. The itching finally began to subside at about the time that the dismissal bell rang, but the matron would not let him leave for lunch.

A few minutes after the bell, Ivy, Zack and Quentin showed up, but Madam Cosgrove sent them away, saying that she didn't need any distractions. Connor thought sourly that he would have liked the distraction, but wasn't given a say in the matter. He watched sadly as his friends went off to lunch, and lamented the fact that he had given Quentin the bun he had pilfered from breakfast during break.

"Wait here," Madam Cosgrove admonished sternly as the door closed behind his friends. "And stop that scratching!" She disappeared into her office, and returned a few minutes later. "Professor Snape will be sending along a jar of his strongest anti-itching salve in a few minutes," she reported. "We'll see if that helps at all."

"But the itching is almost completely gone, now," Connor protested. "Now they just ache a bit from where I scratched too hard."

"All the same, Mr Potter," she said sternly, "this isn't the first time you've come to me with this complaint, and it only seems to be getting worse. I will give you some of the salve to take with you, and you're to use it the next time you have a problem, then come and see me immediately. I will continue to research the matter."

She used her wand to heal the abrasions and welts that Connor's fingernails had caused, and was just finishing when Professor Snape appeared in the doorway.

"Madam Cosgrove," he said formally as he approached.

"Severus," she replied, using his first name with a small smile.

"It's for Potter, is it?" he asked, speaking as though Connor was not sitting right in front of him.

"Yes," she answered calmly. "It's the strangest thing I've ever seen. There's no indication of allergy, poison, spell damage or anything else I can determine, but it's undeniably a reaction to _something_."

"He probably did something dangerously against the rules, and is now suffering from it, afraid of being punished." Professor Snape told Madam Cosgrove in a bored tone. Then he turned to Connor and said simply, "Hands."

Connor held out his hands for inspection, and tried not to flinch when the gruff Potions Master pointed his wand at them. After a series of long strings of Latin, the professor turned back to the medi-witch.

"An interesting case," was all he said. "My manuscripts are available to you if you should find a need."

"Thank you Severus," Madam Cosgrove smiled. "That's very generous of you."

"This salve should help to temporarily sooth any dermal inflammations; topical usage only. Ingestion would be – ill advised. I would be interested in your findings when you discover the source of the problem." Professor Snape handed over a pint-sized jar of what looked like greenish grease.

"Thank you," Madam Cosgrove said again. "I'll keep you apprised."

Snape nodded, and gave a stiff little bow toward the matron before turning to leave. He ignored Connor all together. Madam Cosgrove simply smiled and unscrewed the lid of the jar.

"Ugh!" Connor complained. "That smells terrible!"

"That would be the garlic," she said pragmatically, but with a wrinkled nose.

Garlic wasn't the only smell invading Connor's nose. With his talent for potions, he also recognized the underlying scents of lavender, bay, chamomile and eucalyptus, all in a base of lanolin. He was sure there were other ingredients that he couldn't detect, but he was proud of being able to identify the ones that he could. The combination of smells was far from appealing, and he wasn't exactly happy about having to apply it to his skin.

"It's really quite an honour to be given permission to use Professor Snape's private library!" the matron enthused, scooping some of the salve from the jar. "He's very protective of his manuscripts."

Madam Cosgrove rubbed a small amount of the balm into his hands and wrapped them loosely in bandages. She advised Connor to wear the gauze until the salve had time to sink in, and to keep the unpleasant smell to a minimum. She released him after supplying him with a vial of the smelly salve, and Connor hurried toward the Great Hall. He only had fifteen minutes before he was due in Transfiguration, which meant that he had about five minutes to grab some lunch.

His friends were all gone from the Great Hall by the time he arrived, as were most of the other students. He sat down at the table and ladled some soup into a bowl, and quickly buttered a large slab of bread.

"Connor?"

Connor bit back a groan. Professor Lupin was approaching, and if he wanted a full report about what Madam Cosgrove had said and done, he'd never get a chance to eat.

"Hi Professor," he answered. "Sorry I missed class. I only have a couple of minutes to eat before I have to get to Transfiguration."

Professor Lupin sat down opposite Connor and said, "Take your time and eat properly. I'll write you an excuse for being late to Professor Thompson's lesson."

"Thanks," Connor said around a huge bite of bread.

"What did Madam Cosgrove have to say?" Lupin asked kindly. "I was worried when I saw what you'd done to your hands."

"She couldn't figure out what was wrong with them," Connor said after swallowing hugely. "She tried everything – even looked in books and stuff."

"That's odd," the professor replied with a frown. "What did she do to help with the itching?"

"Well, she put some sort of spell on my hands; that helped a bit. Then she finally called Professor Snape, and he brought some salve that's supposed to help deaden the nerves a bit next time. The itching had gone by the time he brought it, but Madam Cosgrove put some one me anyway."

Lupin eyed his bandaged hands and wrinkled his nose slightly. "Is that where the unusual smell is coming from?"

"Yes," Connor said. "Stinks, doesn't it?" He spooned up some soup, not at all put off his appetite. "I don't have to use it all the time, thank Merlin. Madam Cosgrove just said to put it on if they start itching again, to give me time to get to the Hospital Wing without ripping my hands to shreds."

"Well, as your head of house, I thought I should warn you that it's my duty to send an owl to your parents about this," Professor Lupin said. "Though I know that they're already aware of the initial problem, I'm bound to contact them whenever one of my students' health is compromised."

Connor rolled his eyes. He had a feeling that by the time he graduated Hogwarts, his parents would have enough letters from Professors Lupin and McGonagall to wallpaper the entire house. The bread had taken the edge off of Connor's hunger, so he put down his spoon. He didn't want to tell his uncle that his hands had already begun to itch slightly again since he'd started eating; there was nothing he could do about it since he already had salve on, and the medi-witch had found nothing discernibly wrong with him. "I already wrote to them about it last time I went to Madam Cosgrove," he complained.

Lupin nodded and smiled as he got to his feet. "It's still my job," he replied. "Finish your lunch, and I'll send a note along to Professor Thompson for you."

Connor finished his soup and filled his pockets with chocolate biscuits just moments before the tables cleaned themselves of food. It was a relief to him when he realised that his hands did not itch anymore at all, and he reckoned he must have imagined the flare up while he was talking to Professor Lupin.

He made a quick trip to his dorm to get the correct books for Transfiguration and managed to enter the room without attracting too much attention to himself. The entire class was busily working on changing Hedgehogs into pincushions. Professor Thompson looked around to see Connor standing just inside the door and strode over. Connor handed him his essay, and was told to collect a hedgehog from a crate on the counter and get to work.

By the end of class, Connor was pleased to see that he had accomplished his task. It was not the prettiest pincushion in the world, perhaps, but it didn't jump or squeak when jabbed with a pin like one or two others in the room did. It seemed that Quentin's advice had helped, and Professor Thompson was pleased with his progress.

Connor and his friends headed up to the common room to do their homework, knowing that they had Quidditch practice that evening, and not wanting to leave it for the weekend. When eight o'clock rolled around, Connor was standing on the Quidditch pitch with Ivy, Rachel, Quentin and the others, preparing to scrimmage.

"All right everyone!" Whitney addressed the team after casting a quick Sonorus charm on her throat. "It's time for a scrimmage! Red versus gold - first team against reserve. I want no holds barred, people! I want everyone to play as if the other team is in Slytherin house! Professor Lupin has agreed to release the balls for us, and to referee from the sidelines as much as possible, so everyone mount your brooms and get into position!"

The match was a good one. Professor Lupin released the balls, and tossed the Quaffle high into the air, putting the players into motion. Connor reached out and snagged it first, passing it smoothly to Amanda on his left, even as gold-robed Trent Carpenter lunged for it, nearly falling from his broom in the attempt. The reserve chasers seemed determined to show the others that they were capable and formidable, and the beaters on both sides were getting increasingly vicious in their swings.

Bludgers grazed Connor twice, but Ivy and Aiden were quick to repel them. Connor found it extremely hard to score against Rachel, and the other reserves made up for their lack of experience with sheer enthusiasm.

Connor was disappointed to see that Tim Nelson, the first team's keeper, was not doing very well, and was letting easy saves by him far too often. Tim had been playing rather poorly since this term's practices had begun, and claimed it was due to an injury he had sustained while practicing over the summer. Connor hoped that he would be up to scratch in time for their first match, or they had little hope of winning.

Forty-five minutes later, Jarod Weasley was smiling menacingly at Connor as he hit a Bludger with considerable strength in his direction from only a few metres away. Connor barely had time to dodge out of the way as Ivy sped forward to beat it away.

What came next happened so quickly that Connor barely had time to process it. He had thrown his body weight into turning sharply on the spot in an effort to avoid both the Bludger and Ivy, who were right behind him. Ivy's new broom modifications kept her from being thrust backward after her bat contacted the Bludger, and Connor's sudden turn caused the tip of one of the tail twigs from his broom whip around and slice across Ivy's sleeve.

Connor looked behind him just in time to hear Ivy gasp in pain, and to see blood spurt alarmingly from his friend's forearm before she clamped her hand over it. He realised a vein must have been severed, because blood began to seep through her fingers at once. One of the other girls on the team couldn't hold in a panicked scream at the sight.

"Here," Connor ordered calmly, thought his heart was racing wildly. He manoeuvred his broom up beside hers so that they were facing in opposite directions. He grabbed a handful of his own robes and carefully coaxed her hand from the wound, and used his robes as a makeshift bandage, pressing them against the gash in her arm.

Connor felt slightly queasy at the amount of blood his friend had lost, but Ivy was shaking from reaction by now. He quickly, but gently, pulled her onto his own broom with out letting go of the pressure he was applying to her wound, so that she was sitting sideways, huddled against him. He sucked in a breath as his own arm throbbed in sympathy, and ignored the itching that began in his own hands once more. He wasted no time in steering with his free hand, and urged his broom as fast as it would go out of the pitch and toward the castle. Connor didn't stop until they reached the huge oak doors leading to the entrance hall.

All the while, Ivy was chanting through tears and gritted teeth, "It hurts! It's burning!"

"Oh Merlin," Connor murmured as they reached the castle. He imagined that he could feel the stinging heat beneath his hand as he sped onward, but could not spare a moment to glance down at the moment. He tried to think of anything comforting he could say, and thought of what his mother might say at a time like this. "Don't worry Ivy, I'll get you to Madam Cosgrove! She'll fix you right up, you'll see!"

Guilt was pressing him to hurry; he had been the one to injure her, after all. He brought his broom to a stop and helped her to dismount without letting go of her arm. He let his broom drop with a clatter on the stones of the dark doorstep, and used his free hand to draw his wand and open the huge door. He guided Ivy up the steps and took her as fast as he could manage to the Hospital Wing, murmuring meaningless words of comfort the entire time.

"What happened?" Madam Cosgrove demanded when she saw all of the blood staining their robes.

"We were playing Quidditch, and the tail twigs of my broom sliced into her arm," Connor said wearily. He was breathing hard, and felt a little unsteady now that help was at hand.

The hand that he'd clamped over her arm was sore and stiff from the constant pressure, but they no longer itched. He was intensely relieved when the matron readied a bandage to place over the wound and urged him to let go.

Reluctantly, Connor took his hand away from the wound, prepared for it to begin gushing blood again, but nothing of the sort happened. Madam Cosgrove had promptly covered the newly exposed area with the bandage, but no new blood soaked it as Connor expected.

The matron guided Ivy to a nearby bed, and had her sit on the edge of the thin mattress to be examined. She used her wand to remove the sleeve of Ivy's ruined robes, and lifted the bandage away to reveal…nothing. Where there had be a gash only minutes ago, there was now only a line a pink skin to indicate where the wound had been. It was as if the gash had been an injury from weeks ago instead of only minutes.

"Is this some sort of joke?" Madam Cosgrove demanded, sounding angry.

"No!" Connor denied at once.

"I don't understand," Ivy said in confusion. "It was bleeding like mad just two minutes ago!"

At that moment, Professor Lupin burst into the ward, breathing hard, obviously having run all the way from the Quidditch Pitch. He was holding Connor's broomstick, evidently having

found it in front of the school doors when he followed them. "How's Ivy?" he panted. "Her arm…."

"Is just fine," the medi-witch finished for him. "No sign of an injury at all. I expect someone thinks this is highly amusing."

"No." Professor Lupin was quick to assure her. "I saw it happen myself. Connor spun round on his broom, and the tail caught Ivy in the arm. Blood was everywhere; it was coming out of her arm like a fountain before Connor stopped it."

"You're sure?" Madam Cosgrove did not look convinced.

"Positive," the professor said.

A moment later, a sweaty and out of breath Gryffindor team came through the door, all breathing hard and demanding answers. Professor Lupin and Madam Cosgrove hurried to usher them all out, and told them to go back to their common room after assurances that Ivy was fine. They only went reluctantly when Ivy waved to them to show that she was all right.

"Now," Professor Lupin said, "perhaps we can figure out what is going on here."

"Well my arm was cut open," Ivy began. "It was really deep, and I think that seeing all that blood made me panic. I just remember Connor grabbing my arm with his robes like a bandage, and then he pulled me onto his broom. I remember it stung really bad, and it felt like it was on fire."

"She kept saying that it was burning," Connor confirmed. "I flew as fast as I could back to the castle and brought her straight here."

"And what happened to your own arm?" Madam Cosgrove asked, striding toward Connor.

"Nothing," Connor answered quizzically. He looked down as the matron grabbed his arm, and saw that the sleeve of his robes were soaked through with blood in a spot on his own arm, that corresponded with the blood on Ivy's arm. She yanked up his sleeve to find his arm completely unmarked.

"Is this Ms Longbottom's blood?" she asked, examining his uninjured arm carefully.

"I guess it would have to be," Connor answered, feeling suddenly light-headed. "She was bleeding really heavily, and I didn't have any cuts like that."

"What do you think happened to Ivy, Grace?" Lupin asked Madam Cosgrove.

Whatever answer the matron gave, Connor never heard. His vision greyed as his knees suddenly gave way, and he never even felt himself hit the floor.

"Maybe it was reaction from seeing all of the blood?"

Connor came back to consciousness with a throbbing headache and a wicked thirst. He distantly recognised Professor Lupin's voice nearby.

"I'm not so sure about that," came Madam Cosgrove's voice.

'Of course,' Connor thought to himself as he opened his eyes, finding that he was lying on a bed. "Hospital wing. Ivy's arm."

"That's right," came the matron's voice. "You blacked out on us."

Connor hadn't realised that he'd spoken that last part aloud.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked.

"Tired," he admitted. "And thirsty."

Professor Lupin immediately conjured a glass of water and handed it to him while Madam Cosgrove admonished him to drink it slowly. Connor drained the glass and then sat up slowly to find everyone looking at him with worried expressions.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You fainted," Madam Cosgrove informed him bluntly.

Connor winced. Fainting was something _girls_ did. "How come?"

"It _was_ an awful lot of blood," Ivy said quietly.

"I think," Madam Cosgrove said. "That you wore yourself out healing Ms Longbottom."

"Pardon?" Professor Lupin looked surprised.

"What?" Connor and Ivy said together.

"I think that when Mr Potter saw the blood and realised that Ms Longbottom was injured, his emotions got the better of him. I think he used accidental magic to heal her while he was bringing her to me." The matron was looking very sure of her diagnosis. "He is a bit old to be displaying wild magic still, but it can happen in extraordinary circumstances. I think that he panicked and his magic took over; that can be very draining."

"So I healed Ivy by accident, and I passed out because of it?" Connor summarized.

"In a nutshell, yes," Madam Cosgrove answered. "I expect you'll sleep very soundly tonight as a result. I really should keep you here tonight for observation."

"No!" Connor protested at once.

"He did display some wandless magic in the first week of school," Professor Lupin supplied, changing the subject of Connor spending the night in the Hospital Wing with some amusement in his tone. "He was very angry at the time, and I thought that he might be showing a predilection for it, as his father does. Perhaps it was just accidental magic, after all."

"Shouldn't my occlumency be keeping that in check?" Connor asked, feeling distinctly uneasy about where this conversation was heading.

"Obviously it's not," Madam Cosgrove said. "But for now, you both seem to be fine. I want to run a few diagnostic charms over the two of you before you go back to Gryffindor Tower, but I don't suppose there is any real reason to keep you longer than that."

Connor sighed with relief. If his parents got word he'd had to spend the night in the Hospital Wing again, he'd never hear the end of it.

"I want to hear about it if anything like this happens again," Professor Lupin told Connor, handing over the broom he had picked up. "Any wandless magic or accidental magic at all."

"Yes Sir." Connor agreed quietly. He really was very tired.

The professor left his students in Madam Cosgrove's care, and Connor had the sinking suspicion that he was on his way to the Headmistress's office. He sat still while the matron waved her wand around Ivy, muttering spells.

"Well," Madam Cosgrove said after examining Ivy, "you do seem to be missing a bit of blood. Nothing to worry about, though you should probably eat something soon, and get some rest."

Ivy nodded, and waited while Connor endured a short battery of charms and tests as well. "You're fine, as well, Mr Potter," she said. "Go to Gryffindor Tower and go straight to bed. Luckily tomorrow is Saturday, and you should be able to sleep as long as you need."

Both Ivy and Connor were yawning by the time they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Ivy gave the password, and the picture swung forward. As soon as they climbed through, students who had seen or heard what had happened on the pitch beset them. Whitney came forward immediately, returned Ivy's broom to her, and demanded to know if Ivy would still be able to play her position as Beater. Zack looked a bit pale as he came forward, too, saying that Rachel had told him that Ivy had looked as though she might bleed to death from the amount of blood she had seen.

"I'm fine, really," Ivy insisted loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Good as new, thanks to Connor's quick thinking. I'm a bit tired, though, from losing a lot of blood, so I'm going to go to bed.

"Madam Cosgrove said you should eat something," Connor reminded her with a yawn. He was grateful that she hadn't mentioned _how_ she'd been healed; accidental magic was something most wizards outgrew long before Hogwarts. He felt weird knowing that he didn't have enough control over his emotions lately to stop it.

"Don't you have something in one of your pockets?" Quentin asked Connor with a smirk.

Quentin approached his friends, Circe asleep on his arm, now that the crowd of kids had dispersed for the most part. He looked calm on the surface, but Connor thought his eyes looked a bit wide all the same.

"Not this time," Connor said with a smile. He supposed he did tend to have some sort of snack in his pocket for those 'just in case he got hungry' moments. He was actually having one of those moments now, but was too tired to care.

"I'm too tired to eat," Ivy said, waving a hand dismissively and collecting her kneazle from Quentin. "I'll just have a big breakfast tomorrow."

"I'm worn out, too," Connor admitted. "Now that the excitement's over, I'm really sleepy."

Connor retreated to his room, and changed into his pyjamas before climbing into bed. He was asleep before he even drew the hangings on his bed closed.

Connor woke up late the next morning to find that everyone else was already up and gone from the dormitory. He showered lazily; he still fely a bit tired, and dressed thinking that he would go hunt up some breakfast. He was suddenly feeling very hungry, and a glance at the clock told him that the tables in the Great Hall would be clearing themselves soon. He hurried down the stairs, only pausing to see if his friends were in the common room, and then exited through the portrait hole. Using every short cut that he knew, he travelled down to the Great Hall just in time. Only a few students were still in the room, and Professor McGonagall was apparently having a late meal herself. She sat alone at the head table, sipping tea and reading the Daily Prophet leisurely.

Connor scooped a mound of eggs and bacon onto his plate, and for good measure, filled one of his pockets with two apples, and a jam doughnut. No sooner had he shovelled the last of his eggs into his mouth, than the tables cleared, signalling the end of the breakfast serving times.

"Good morning, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said to him as he stood.

She was standing behind him with the newspaper folded under her arm, looking as though she had been waiting for him.

"Good morning, Professor," Connor returned politely. "How are you?"

"I am very well, thank you," she answered. "I had a talk with Professor Lupin this morning, and also with Madam Cosgrove."

"I seem to spend a lot of time in the Hospital Wing," Connor said with a sheepish smile.

"Yes, you do," McGonagall agreed. "Very like your father in that respect. I trust you're feeling well this morning? No ill effects from the incident with Ms Longbottom?"

"I feel fine," Connor assured her. "I slept really heavily, like Madam Cosgrove said I would, but other than that, I'm all right."

"Good, I am glad to hear it. Your hands have not been bothering you at all since yesterday morning?" The headmistress seemed determined to make sure for herself that Connor was in good health.

"Not really," Connor said, holding them up as if to prove his point.

"Excellent," she approved with a small smile. "Let's hope they stay that way. Did you get enough to eat? You seemed to be in a hurry."

"I was just really hungry, and I knew the tables would be clearing themselves soon," Connor explained with a sheepish smile. "Don't worry, I grabbed a snack for later before it went." He patted his bulging pocket happily.

"Yes, I saw," Professor McGonagall said dryly, walking with him to the entrance hall. "It seems to be a habit of yours. The way you've been eating, I daresay we can expect you to be growing another inch or so soon."

"That wouldn't bother me any," Connor confessed. "Zack's still a full head taller than me, and Quentin's at least three inches above me."

"Well I think you'll be catching up with them sooner rather than later," she said fondly. "Good day."

"Good-bye professor," he said, and turned to the front doors of the school to see if his friends were visible out on the grounds.

He found Quentin, Ivy and Rachel standing down by the lake, wrapped in heavy cloaks and rubbing their hands together for warmth. The bulk of the Gryffindor Quidditch team was all gathered around for what seemed to be an impromptu meeting.

"Oh, Connor! Good. We were just thinking that since practice was cut short last night, we should get in some time on the pitch today. Ravenclaw was booked, but needed to reschedule." Whitney didn't so much as let Connor greet anyone before she barrelled on. "We just need to see if we can find Aiden, Stella and Trent, and then we can do another scrimmage."

"Aiden was headed toward the greenhouses with Christa Belmuth earlier," Desiree Martin, the reserve Seeker, announced with a slight giggle.

A couple of other girls giggled as well, and Whitney rolled her eyes. Connor wasn't sure what was so funny, but he thought that making up for the practice they'd lost yesterday was a good idea, so he volunteered to find Aiden.

"I'll go looking for Aiden," he said. "Then I'll go get changed."

More giggles. Connor wondered if he should be concerned. Did he have something on his face from breakfast? Had someone stuck a note to the back of his cloak?

"I'll find Stella and Trent," Desiree added with a smile.

"Good," Whitney said happily. "Everyone go get changed and grab your brooms. We'll meet out on the pitch in an hour."

Connor waited while everyone dispersed, and took one of the apples from his pocket, taking a huge bite. He was still pretty hungry, and wished he'd had more time for breakfast. "Do you guys want to come with me to find Aiden?" he asked his Ivy, Quentin and Rachel.

Rachel made a face, Ivy hid a smile behind her hand, and Quentin shrugged.

"Count me out," Rachel said. "There are some things I need to see."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Connor asked, bewildered.

"See you on the pitch," was the only answer Ivy gave before trotting off after Rachel.

"What are they on about?" Connor asked Quentin.

"Who knows?" Quentin said. "Let's go get Aiden and get kitted up. Maybe I'll warm up once we get playing."

They walked toward the greenhouses, discussing the fact that the weather seemed to have turned wintry awfully early this year. When they reached the glass-enclosed buildings, they split up in the hopes of finding Aiden more quickly.

Connor tossed his apple core into a compost heap, and checked greenhouses one and two. He didn't find his quarry until he opened the door to number three. He spotted Aiden's back toward the back of the room, and almost called out to him when he realized that there were a pair of arms wrapped around his cousin. _Girl's_ arms. It took him a full five seconds to realize that Aiden was kissing the girl in his arms, and another moment to turn red and decide what he should do. They obviously hadn't heard him enter, and so he backed up to the door, opened it, and called out in the most normal voice he could manage. "Aiden! Are you in here?"

Connor turned red again when he heard the girl (presumably Christa Belmuth) gasp, and the crash of a flowerpot smashing on the ground. Aiden swore, and called out, "What's up?"

"Whitney wants the team out on the pitch in an hour to make up for yesterday's practice," Connor called out, deliberately not looking in the couple's direction. He didn't have any problem with embarrassing Aiden, but thought that the girl might not take it so well.

"I'll be there," Aiden replied, sounding put-out about it.

Connor stepped back out into the cold and found Quentin standing just behind him.

"Did you find Aiden?" Quentin asked.

Connor knew his face was red, but nodded and said, "He'll be there. Let's go get changed."

On the way back to the castle, Connor was torn between embarrassment at what he'd witnessed, curiosity about the situation, and glee over the fact that he had prime blackmailing material over his cousin at long last. He'd have to give this some thought.

The scrimmage went well, though Tim Nelson continued to Keep poorly. The first team nearly lost to the reserve team on account of the number of saves he missed, and Whitney told Tim he needed to shape up or lose his spot on the first team.

By the time they went to bed that night, Connor was exhausted again. He had eaten another enormous meal at dinner, and was just on the verge of falling asleep when he realized sleepily that he hadn't practiced his Occlumency at all that day, or the previous night. Too tired to worry much over it, he slid into sleep, and had no dreams at all that he could remember the following day.

**_A/N - I gave my Beta readers the holidays off, so any mistakes in the above are purely my own, and I hope not too grievous. I've also been down with the flu, so I hope it all makes sense. Either way, I hope you will take a moment to review!_**


	9. Chapter Nine First Hogsmeade Weekend

**Chapter Nine – First Hogsmeade Weekend **

_"The real test of friendship is: can you literally do nothing with the other person? Can you enjoy those moments of life that are utterly simple?" – Eugene Kennedy _

The second weekend in October was a Hogsmeade weekend. Connor woke up feeling a thrill of anticipation and dressed quickly so that he could meet the others for an early breakfast.

They had made their plan days ago, and intended to sneak Rachel into Hogsmeade through a secret tunnel that ran from the castle all the way to the cellar of Honeydukes. It had taken Connor and Rachel almost two hours to travel the length of that tunnel and back when they had tested it last Monday night, but were satisfied that their plan would work.

They would meet Rachel in Honeydukes an hour after seeing her through the secret passage. They were counting on the fact that no one would think twice about seeing her in their little group of friends, out in the village. Connor figured that she was in the company of the older kids so often, that most of the students in other houses probably didn't even realize she was a year younger.

At breakfast, they were careful to make a small show of expressing their regrets to Rachel that she would not be able to go with them.

"It's not like you haven't been there before," Connor told her in what he hoped was a consoling tone.

"What are you going to do while we're gone?" Zack asked her.

"I think I'll take my broom out and practice," Rachel said glumly. "There are going to be a bunch of kids out on the pitch for a friendly game. You're going to bring me back some sweets, right?"

"Of course!" Ivy assured her.

After breakfast, they went back to Gryffindor Tower, collected Rachel's broom, and were trying to look casual as they travelled down the third floor corridor toward the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor, (better known as the one-eyed, hump-backed witch). They stopped at the statue, and talked casually to one another as they waited for a pair or first year Hufflepuffs to pass by and turn the corner.

"Yes," Rachel said in an interested tone, "Gunhilda of Gorsemoor is the one who developed the cure for Dragon Pox."

"_Why_ do you know that?" Connor asked, tracking the progress of the Hufflepuffs.

"Uncle Charlie had Dragon Pox a couple of years ago," Rachel answered.

"Vanessa had them when she was nine," Quentin added.

Connor nodded as soon as the way was clear, and they stopped the inane conversation. Rachel drew her wand and was about to utter the password that would open the hump of the witch to reveal the secret passage.

"_Ahem._"

Connor wheeled around on the spot, his heart giving one giant _thump_ in his chest before it started galloping. He groaned inwardly to see Professor Lupin standing in the doorway of a classroom beside the statue, looking amused. Connor hadn't heard or seen Lupin approach, which probably meant that he had been expecting them and had hidden, waiting for them to show up. Connor glanced at the others, who looked stricken at being caught about to aid and abet Rachel's crime.

"Well, well, well! What have we here? You wouldn't be trying to sneak out of the castle, now, would you?" the professor asked mildly. "Because that would be against the rules."

"Of course not!" Connor said immediately. He tried to step nonchalantly in front of Rachel to block her from Lupin's view. "We don't need to sneak out. It's a Hogsmeade weekend."

"But Rachel isn't old enough to be going to Hogsmeade with you." Professor Lupin chuckled appreciatively and raised his wand. "Accio Marauder's Map."

The Map flew from Rachel's pocket and into Professor Lupin's hand.

"I do give you credit for thinking to bring a broom," the professor told them conversationally. "It took me and my friends months to think to speed up the trip that way."

"Uncle Remus," Connor pleaded with a hint of a whine in his voice. "Can't you just pretend you never saw us?"

"Not this time, Connor," Lupin said, sounding a bit regretful. "I'll remind you what happened the last time you snuck out of the castle."

Connor felt his cheeks heat at the reminder of the trouble he had led his friends into the previous April. This was hardly the same as sneaking into the Ministry of Magic in the middle of the night, but he knew that if Rachel had been caught in the village, they all would have been in big trouble.

"What kind of example would I be setting if I let you slip in and out of secret passages …" Professor Lupin paused and looked up.

Connor followed his gaze to see Rupert at the end of the corridor, tying his shoe. He wondered if the other boy had heard them talking, but dismissed the idea. Rupert was too far away to have eavesdropped.

"What?" Rupert asked defensively, seeing them all looking at him.

Connor just shook his head, and sighed. Rupert stared at them all suspiciously before walking away.

"I'll hold onto this for today," Professor Lupin said, pocketing the map. "That way I can be sure that no one _accidentally_ strays out of bounds. By the way, Connor, I think tonight would be an excellent time for us to have a session to go over your Occlumency."

Connor nodded dispiritedly, and watched as the professor walked off with a spring in his step.

"Sorry Rachel," Quentin said dejectedly. "We should have checked the map to see if there was anyone around."

"It's just as well," Rachel said. "There's really no way that someone wouldn't have noticed me there. There's just too many of us Weasleys around, and one of them would have spotted me."

"They wouldn't have told, though," Connor said. "Do you want me to stay behind with you?" He really wanted to go to Hogsmeade, but it wouldn't' be as much fun without Rachel. "There really isn't anything that I _need_ to buy."

"No," she smiled at him. "Thanks, anyway. You can make it up to me by buying me some of those chocolate dipped pretzels from Honeydukes. The ones with peanut butter inside."

"Deal," Connor agreed. He felt badly for her, even though she didn't seem too upset about it, and waved as everyone but Rachel headed toward the exit.

Filch glared at them all balefully as they passed, but ticked their names ticked off of the list of students with permission to leave, making no comment.

As they headed off across the grounds, the sky was overcast, and the grass crunched under their feet as they tramped over the frost-encrusted grass. Connor watched his breath plume out on the air in front of him as his nose began to feel numb from the cold.

"It _is_ only October, isn't it?" Quentin complained as he tugged on woollen gloves. "It feels more like January!"

"I don't remember it being this cold in October last year," Ivy commented.

"Ivy," Zack said after a moment. "Are you all right?"

Connor looked over at Ivy, who seemed perfectly fine to him, then at Zack quizzically.

"I'm fine," Ivy said. "Why?"

"You keep making strange little squeaking noises," Zack insisted.

"I do not," Ivy said with a chuckle. "It's Circe. She's in my pocket."

"You brought your cat?" Zack's tone was disbelieving.

"She's not a cat," Ivy said with a sniff. "She's a kneazle!"

"Sorry," Zack said sarcastically, "you brought your _kneazle_ with you?"

"So?" Ivy raised an eyebrow as if daring him to say anything bad about her kneazle.

"Is something wrong with her?" Quentin asked a bit anxiously. "Are you taking her to get checked over or something?"

"No," Ivy said with a heavy sigh, and something of a pout. "I just want to bond with her a bit."

Connor snorted, but tried to cover it up as cough when Ivy glared at him. She had been complaining for the past week that Circe had been more interested in staying in the third-year boys dormitory (mostly Quentin's bed) than in hers. She had told them before that she was worried that she hadn't been spending enough time with her new pet, but it was Connor's opinion that Circe just liked the scraps of food that Quentin kept sneaking her. He had even taught her to sit up and beg for the treats he saved from dinner. Connor thought it was no wonder the little fur ball preferred Quentin's bed.

"I thought that if I took her with me, she'd, you know…" Ivy said with a shrug.

"Maybe you should try bribing her with chicken," Zack said innocently. "That's what Quint does."

"Quentin Malfoy!" Ivy said indignantly, coming to an abrupt halt nest to the tall Hogwarts gates and giving him a shove.

"What?" Quentin asked, stepping away from her and glaring at Zack. "You feed her scraps all the time."

"She's _my _cat!"

"Kneazle," Connor corrected with a smile, enjoying getting Ivy worked up.

He saw Zack smile wickedly behind Ivy's back.

"I think that Quentin knows he can't get a kneazle of his own," Zack added, making Quentin scowl at him, and Connor hide a smile behind a gloved hand. "So he's trying to steal yours."

She glared at Connor and Quentin for a moment then said, "Circe is _mine_. How am I supposed to take proper care of her if there are other people feeding her all the time? She probably doesn't even know she's _my_ pet!"

Ivy gently extracted Circe from her pocket, and the kitten mewled pitifully until she cradled it close and stroked its head.

"Oh, look!" Vanessa Malfoy's voice came from behind them. "_Leo_ and his little friends."

Connor turned to face her, wondering what sort of nastiness she had in store for them today. She never had a nice to word to say to Gryffindors in general, and Connor in particular.

"Too bad Potter's roly-poly little cousin couldn't have been sorted into Gryffindor with all of the other freaks." Her tone was disdainful. "Annoying little pest's been trailing everyone around taking photos of anything that will sit still long enough, to send to his _Muggle_ brother."

"What do you want, Vanessa?" Quentin asked his sister wearily.

"Who says I want anything?' she asked airily, fingering the cloak pin that Mrs Potter had given him.

"Then what are you doing here?" he asked irritably, pushing her hand away.

"I'm meeting someone," she said dismissively, looking at her brother's friends, and eyeing their matching cloak pins. "Is Gryffindor tagging you now, to keep you from wandering?"

Circe hissed, and let out a low rumbling growl, not unlike the ones that Connor had heard from Snowball. Connor stepped a little further away from Ivy, and Vanessa smirked.

"Scared of a little kitten?" Vanessa mocked, reaching over scratch Circe's head, perhaps to prove that she was braver than Connor.

Circe hissed again, and at the same time struck out with her paw and left a row of thin scratches on the back of Vanessa's hand that immediately began to seep blood.

"Damn!" Vanessa swore, jerking her hand back, and automatically dabbing at the wound with a tissue from her pocket. "I should have known that a Gryffindor's cat wouldn't have any more manners than it's stupid owner."

"It's a kneazle," Quentin said with a smirk.

"If you want to see a display of my _manners_," Ivy began hotly, stepping forward, "I'd be happy to…"

"Ivy!" Zack grabbed her arm and held her back while Vanessa sneered, but backed away.

"Like I said," Vanessa said sourly. "I'm meeting someone. I hardly want to be seen with you lot."

Vanessa walked away toward the village, leaving the Gryffindors behind without a second glance.

"What got into you?" Zack asked Ivy the moment Vanessa was out of earshot.

"I just don't like her," Ivy said with a scowl. "And I still haven't forgotten about what she did to Connor last year."

She pulled her arm free and continued walking toward the village. The boys went along with her, slightly surprised by the venom she had let loose on the Slytherin girl. Connor looked over at Ivy from the corner of his eye and scratched absently at his right hand as he walked. He was amused when he saw Quentin reach out a hand to pet Circe.

"Good kitty," Quentin whispered to the kneazle.

Ivy smiled.

The first stop they made once they reached the village was Zonko's. The popular joke shop was crowded with students. There were the usual items that Connor already had stored up in abundance in his trunk, since his uncles sent care packages to all of the Weasley and Potter kids with regularity. They said that it was good advertising. No, Connor didn't need any of the usual items - he was after one item in particular.

"Hey Connor, look at these," Quentin called to him from the end of a long isle of sweets.

Connor walked over and saw that Quentin was looking at a collection of foil-wrapped chocolate Snitches, all of which had their wings taped down.

"You take the tape off, and they'll fly around for a few minutes, just out of arm's reach." Quentin said, his eyes bright.

"Brilliant!" Connor said. "Going to buy some, then?"

"I think I'll send one to my dad," Quentin answered, but he put three of them in his basket.

Connor waited until his friends were ready to pay for their purchases, and then picked up the one item that he had been planning on buying: a new Chameleon Cloak.

He had used a Chameleon Cloak the previous year with great success when he and his friends had snuck into the Ministry of Magic. It was designed to disguise the wearer by blending in with its surroundings. While it was not as good as an Invisibility Cloak, and only lasted for a few times worth of wear, Connor had been impressed with it. Unfortunately, the cloak had been confiscated when they'd been caught inside the Department of Mysteries, and he'd never seen it again. He hadn't dared to buy another one when they'd visited Diagon Alley over the summer, for fear of his mother finding it.

"Excellent," Zack said when he saw what Connor was holding. "Maybe I should get one, as well."

"No," came a voice from behind him. "I really don't think you should."

Connor cringed as he turned to find his uncle looking more serious than usual. "Hey Uncle Fred," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I always come into Hogsmeade when Hogwarts lets you lot loose," he answered amiably. "It gets too busy for the regular staff, otherwise. George is off in the back somewhere."

"We were just getting ready to pay for our stuff," Connor said.

"Sorry, Con," Fred said, sounding genuinely regretful. "I promised your mum that I wouldn't sell you or your friends that particular item. She made me swear I wouldn't – under pain of death."

"How's she going to find out?" Connor wheedled. If anyone was going to let him break the rules, it would be Uncle Fred.

"She has her ways," Fred said knowledgeably. "I don't know how she does it, but she'd find out."

Fred reached out and plucked the cloak that Connor had been trying to hide behind his back out of his hands. Zack looked at him sorrowfully, and went to pay for his things.

"Look, if you swear to me that you won't go asking another student to get one of these for you," Fred said enticingly, holding up the confiscated package, "I'll let you have a few of our newest invention – not even available to the public yet."

"What is it?" Connor asked, interested.

"These are so new," Fred leaned in and said conspiratorially, "that we haven't even given any to the boys yet."

Connor knew that "the boys" referred to Fred and George's kids, Aiden, Jarod, Shawn and Patrick. He also knew that if _they _hadn't been given any of what he was being offered, there were prime pranking opportunities to be had with them.

"I'm listening." Connor urged. "What's the new invention?"

"First you have to swear that you won't go trying to get another one of these cloaks," Fred insisted shrewdly. "Otherwise it's no deal."

Connor considered the matter. He really wanted a new cloak, and he wasn't above being sneaky to get one. On the other hand, an unreleased invention from his Uncles was usually worth its weight in gold. Connor was open to negotiation.

"Is it good?" he asked, not wanting to regret the decision later.

"You wound me!" Fred accused dramatically, hand over his heart. "Have we ever let you down before?"

"I suppose not," Connor admitted. "All right, I promise not to try to get one of those cloaks."

He had not, however, promised not to try to find something similar from another source.

"Good lad!" Fred clapped him on the back and led him toward the storage room.

Connor saw Ivy standing by the door of the shop with a bulging bag, and Quentin and Zack were both at the head of the line to pay. He mouthed, "I'll be right back," to Ivy, and she nodded.

The storage room was stacked high with neatly labelled boxes on shelves that reached from floor to ceiling. Connor spotted George toward the back, putting multi-coloured sweets that resembled jawbreakers into little clear bags with deft little flicks of his wand. When he saw Fred and Connor approaching, he looked surprised.

"Connor's going to need some of the Flatulent Fancies," Fred told his twin.

"Flatulent Fancies?" Connor asked eagerly. That sounded like it had definite possibilities.

"I thought we weren't going to put them out until we had enough packaged for simultaneous release at all of our locations," George reminded him.

"This is a special deal that Connor and I worked out," Fred said casually. "In exchange for a promise not to try to get another Chameleon Cloak."

"Ah," George said, apparently needing no other explanation. "I've got some in that crate by my cloak."

Fred found the crate, and pried open the lid to retrieve a bag of what looked to be ordinary Fizzing Whizbees, except for the fact that that famous wizarding sweets didn't come in these particular colours. Regular Whizbees made the person sucking on them levitate a few inches off of the ground, and Connor knew that they had been a favourite of his father's when he was a kid.

"One of these little beauties mixed in with some regular Fizzing Whizbees," Fred said, holding up a single piece of the candy. "And you can get someone to eat it without them knowing it."

"What happens then?" Connor asked, a smile blossoming on his face.

"Uncontrollable flatulence," Fred answered with relish.

"You mean if I give one of these to Rupert…?" Connor's eyes gleamed with unholy glee.

"He'll fart excessively for the next two hours," Fred enthused excitedly.

"And the stench will make a troll smell like springtime in a meadow," George added from where he continued to bag candy. "Zoë kicked me out of the house for three days while we were testing them. You definitely don't want to go giving them to anyone in your own house."

Connor laughed appreciatively. "Brilliant! I can't wait to try it out!"

"Just don't over do it," Fred warned. "Eating more than one could be, er, _bad_."

"How bad?" Connor asked cautiously.

"Bad, as in, he'd need to change his pants," George clarified. "And probably his trousers as well."

Connor happily pocketed the bag that Fred offered him and shook hands on the deal. As they left the storeroom, Fred put a friendly arm around Connor and said quietly, "I'll give you five Galleons for every one of those you can get Snape to eat."

"I don't have a death wish," Connor replied, though he was grinning just thinking about it.

Connor rejoined his friends, who were waiting for him just outside.

"Did you get in trouble?" Zack asked, sounding worried.

"No," Connor said with a snicker, "but I have a sudden urge to buy a lot of Fizzing Whizbees now. Come on, I'll tell you about it on the way to Honeydukes!"

They went to Honeydukes, where Connor stocked up on his favourite sweets, then bought Rachel the treat he's promised her, plus several scoops of Fizzing Whizbees from a large barrel. Careful to bag each scoop individually, Connor wanted to make it easier to pass off with a Flatulent Fancy in each one. After stocking up on various sweets, Connor and his friends wandered around the village.

Zack was the only one in their group who had never been to Hogsmeade before, unless you counted the train station, and was eager to explore. They obligingly visited the owl post office, Dervish & Banges, Scrivenshaft's, and few other points of interest around the high street.

They ended their tour at the end of a road overlooking the Shrieking Shack. Connor knew it better as the home of Remus Lupin, though few other people did. The outside looked dreadfully neglected and weather-beaten, but Connor knew that the inside was quite comfortably furnished.

According to the guidebooks, the Shrieking Shack was one of the most violently haunted dwellings in all of Britain. It was a rumour that was still encouraged, for tradition's sake, though ghosts had never haunted it at all. To maintain an air of foreboding, Professor Lupin would occasionally invite guests to his home (usually the Potters or Weasleys) to make as much eerie noise as possible. Connor recalled one time where he and Lucy and Ian had been urged to scream and drag chairs and things around the house during a visit to Uncle Remus. It had been great fun.

After taking a look at the Shack, Connor eyed the darkening sky, and suggested going to the Three Broomsticks for something warm before going back to the school. It looked like it might rain later, but the clouds weren't too thick yet.

The others agreed, and happily they walked the short distance to the famous pub.

The pub was crowded with Hogwarts students, and the atmosphere was jovial as all four of them squeezed around a tiny table that was meant to seat two. Connor looked around as he fished his money pouch from his pocket, and guessed that most of the people milling about or sitting at crowded tables had come in to get warm.

"What does everyone want?" Connor asked, intending to go place an order at the bar.

"Hot Butterbeer," Quentin said at once, tugging off his gloves.

"Sounds good," Ivy said, looking furtively around before taking Circe from her pocket and placing her in her lap.

"Mulled cider for me," Zack said.

"Isn't anyone hungry?" Connor asked hopefully. "We could share something."

"That sounds good," Ivy said. "You decide; I'm not fussy."

Everyone agreed, and Connor collected a few sickles from his friends and fought his way to the bar. When he returned to their table with their drinks, it was to find Ivy and Quentin arguing over something.

"They can't be," Quentin was saying. "They're teachers."

"So? Teachers can have personal lives," Ivy replied airily.

"Not with each other!" Quentin said sounding repulsed.

"What's up?" Connor asked, setting down the tankards and sitting down.

"Professor Lupin as Ms Grayson are over in the corner," Zack informed him, nodding his head in that direction. He sipped from his tankard and then said, "Ivy thinks they're on a date."

"Why would you think they were on a date?" Connor asked sceptically. In all the time he could remember, Uncle Remus had never brought a woman to any family get-togethers. He had never even mentioned any woman in particular, either, that Connor could recall, or mentioned dating.

"They're sharing a meal in a pub, sitting in a dimly lit corner!" Ivy said as if it were obvious.

Madam Rosalinda, the daughter of the pub's owner, appeared at their table, set down a basket of hot pumpkin chips and a bookmaker sandwich cut into quarters. With a flourish, she also used her wand to conjure a shot glass full of cream for Circe, and gave them a saucy wink before moving away.

"First of all," Connor said, smirking at Quentin's sudden flushed cheeks as he watched Rosalinda depart, "I'm sitting in a pub with you, and we're not on a date."

"Well, there's four of us here, so that wouldn't count anyway," Ivy said dismissively while holding the cream down where Circe could drink from it.

"Second," Connor continued, "they're probably sitting in a dimly lit corner because that's all that was available when they came in. This place is packed, in case you hadn't noticed -- they probably didn't have a choice. They're not even sitting next to each other."

"So?" Ivy said with a shrug. "Why would they need to sit next to each other? Sitting across from each other, they can see one another more clearly, anyway! And look – they're leaving, and he's helping her with her cloak."

"That just means he has good manners," Quentin pointed out.

"He's paying for the meal," Ivy nodded in the direction of the teachers, and Connor saw Lupin leaving some coins on the table.

"Maybe she already gave him her share of the bill," Zack suggested.

They all watched as their professor and his assistant wove their way through the crowd, and toward the door. Connor noticed that Ivy was not the only student looking at Lupin and Ms Grayson speculatively, and began to wonder.

"He's taking her arm," Ivy said triumphantly when Ms Grayson opened the door.

"That doesn't mean anything," Connor said, unwilling to concede she might have a point as he watched Lupin place a hand under Ms. Grayson's elbow. "The stoop could be slippery. He's just being nice."

Ivy looked at him with an impatient expression, but didn't comment further, other than to mutter, "Boys!"

They all took a share of the sandwich and ate companionably while they discussed various things. It was the arrival of Vanessa and a Slytherin boy at the pub that gave them something interesting to talk about.

Vanessa laughed brightly at something the boy had said, and placed a hand on his arm while looking for a place to sit. They waved at some other Slytherins who called to them, but didn't join their housemates. Connor watched as the couple took seats at the table that Professor Lupin and Ms Grayson had vacated, and sat holding hands over the table. It seemed that they wanted to be alone together.

"Now _they're_ on a date," Connor said.

Quentin looked partly nauseated and partly fascinated to see his sister with a fellow Slytherin. They were leaning forward in their seats and talking to each other intently.

"I don't know how to feel about Vanessa having a boyfriend," Quentin remarked after watching his sister for a while.

"Why's that?" Zack asked.

"Well, I could use this information to annoy her, and threaten to write to Mum and Dad about her new boyfriend if she bugs me," Quentin speculated. "But at the same time, that's the Head Boy she's with. Mum and Dad would probably be thrilled."

"Maybe," Ivy said. "But I'd be willing to bet she still wouldn't want them pressing her for details about him. I'd say it's a good piece of blackmail material."

Connor and Zack nodded in agreement.

"My mum's always asking me if I fancy any of the girls at school," Zack said with an annoyed expression. "Even if I _did_, I wouldn't be likely to want to tell _her_ about it, would I? I'd never hear the end of it!"

Connor shivered at the very thought of his parents finding out he fancied anyone. His father and Uncle Ron would be merciless in their teasing. He thanked heaven that he didn't see much point in spending all his time with girls; Rachel and Ivy didn't count, because they were _friends_, and not really like _girls _at all.

"I caught Aiden and Christa Belmuth in the greenhouses last week," Connor said, suddenly remembering the incident.

"No!" Ivy said, sounding eager. "What were they doing?"

"It looked like they were kissing," Connor said with a small grimace as Ivy giggled. "I didn't stand around and watch."

"Why didn't you say something before?" Ivy demanded. She looked positively gleeful at this bit of news. "He can never tease us about anything ever again when we've got something this good on him!"

"I forgot," Connor said. "It was just before Quidditch practice, then I was really tired, and it just slipped my mind by the next day."

"It's not going to slip mind," Ivy said with relish. "I still owe him big for last spring, when he told Ian Montgomery that I fancied him."

"He didn't!" Zack said. "That Hufflepuff second year? How come you never told us?"

"Rachel knows," Ivy said. "I think that Aiden meant it more as prank on Ian than it was on me. I didn't want anyone else to know at the time. I still catch Ian staring at me in the Great Hall every once in a while."

By the time they had polished off the sandwich and chips, they were ready to head back to Hogwarts.

They discussed different scenarios for getting Rupert to eat the Fizzing Whizbees with the Flatulent Fancy hidden in with them, and whom else they might be able to trick with them. Their problem was solved almost immediately once they got back to Hogwarts, though, and found Rupert standing in the entrance hall. The younger boy looked as though he had just finished taking a photo on the main staircase with the camera hanging from a strap around his neck.

"Had a nice time in the village, I suppose," he said when he spotted them. "It's not fair that the lower years aren't allowed to go."

"We had to wait until our third year, just like everyone else," Connor told him. "Still, I remember getting mad about it, too."

"I heard the sweetshops got all sorts of magic sweets," Rupert said, eyeing their bags with ill-disguised longing.

"Oh, it's brilliant!" Zack assured him, elbowing Connor. "My favourites are the Fizzing Whizbees."

"What do they do?" Rupert asked, sounding slightly suspicious.

"They make you levitate a few inches above the ground while you're eating them," Connor said, looking into his bag. "I've got some in here."

He rummaged around in his bag, and with his hands hidden inside the sack, dropped a Flatulent Fancy into one of the small bags of Fizzing Whizbees. He pulled the baited bag out, withdrew a regular Fizzing Whizbee and popped it in his mouth.

"Whoa!" Rupert looked amazed as Connor's feet slowly lifted off the ground while he quickly chewed the sweet, and then swallowed.

Connor waited until his feet were back on the ground, and then did his best to look as though he were making a difficult decision.

"I suppose I could spare some of them," Connor said. "I did buy a couple of bags, if you wanted to buy one from me."

"How much?" Rupert asked at once.

"Three sickles," Connor said.

"Done," Rupert agreed.

He paid over the sickles, and greedily snatched the bag from Connor's hand. Without so much as a "thank you," or "good-bye," Rupert walked away in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

They waited until he was out of sight before they started laughing.

"Well, it's snowing!"

Connor turned to see Rachel standing behind them with beads of melted snow in her hair, and a broomstick in her hand. Her cheeks and nose were red, and she was grinning broadly.

"No!" Quentin moaned, moving to look out the front doors. "It _is_!"

"And I just whipped Jarod's team at Quidditch," Rachel announced with a satisfaction in her tone that explained her wide grin, in spite of the fact it was snowing.

"Does it look like it's sticking?" Connor asked Quentin, who was still looking outside mournfully.

Quentin looked back at them and nodded sadly. "And we've got Quidditch practice Monday morning."

They groaned in unison, and made their way up to Gryffindor tower. Connor handed over the sweets he had gotten for Rachel, and Zack filled her in on the joke they had just played on Rupert.

The afternoon passed pleasantly, as various Gryffindors trooped in and out of the common room with periodic reports of how deep the snow was becoming.

"It's going to be a more than a foot deep by tomorrow morning," Connor announced suddenly. The image had formed perfectly in his mind a moment before the words tumble from his mouth. "It's going to snow again on Monday, too."

"Are you sure?" Ivy asked him, setting Circe on the floor and scowling as the kneazle trotted up the boys' staircase.

"Yeah," Connor nodded, getting to his feet. "And if I'm to the point of making weather predictions, I think it's time I went to find Professor Lupin for my Occlumency lesson. He said to come when I felt I needed to practice it again."

Connor waved to his friends, and walked through the castle, which seemed quieter than usual. He supposed that everyone was tired out from a long day in Hogsmeade, or playing out in the fast-falling snow.

He reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, and knocked, but no one answered. The door proved to be locked when he tried it, and so Connor went down a floor to the Defence classroom.

He found Professor Lupin and Ms Grayson bent over a large tank full of murky water. They were both splattered and wet, and seemed to be struggling to hold onto something beneath the surface of the water.

"Grab its legs," Professor Lupin was telling Ms Grayson with a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Connor scratched at his hands as they began to itch, and wondered if he should go back to his dormitory for the ointment that Madam Cosgrove had given him. Deciding that the itching wasn't so bad right now, he dismissed the idea and stepped forward. "Do you need any help?" he offered.

"I think we've got it now," Lupin answered, bracing a foot against the bottom of the tank and pulling hard. He grunted as a grindylow, making strange squelching sounds, was yanked from the water. Ms Grayson stumbled backward, and Connor could see that she was holding another grindylow around it's middle while it struggled and scratched at her.

Both grindylows were quickly submerged in separate nearby tanks, where they thrashed around in the water angrily before settling down.

Ms Grayson was swiping at her hair, which had some loose in her struggle with the water demon, and was hanging in her face. Her glasses were speckled with water as well, and she sported several scratches and bite marks on her hands and wrists. "Bloody mean little beggars!" she growled, surveying her damaged hands.

"Elizabeth!" Lupin chided. His lips twitched, though, at the mild profanity, and Connor suppressed a smile.

"Oops!" Ms Grayson blushed a bit and said, "Pardon my language, Connor."

"What happened?" Connor asked while putting his hands behind his back to scratch at them some more. He was thinking that maybe he needed to set out for Madam Cosgrove, after all.

"Just two grindylows that took exception to sharing a tank," Lupin answered, swiping at the moisture on the front of his robes before going to examine Ms Grayson's hands.

"No, Remus, don't bother," Ms Grayson said, pulling her hands away. "I'll just nip down the hall and have Grace fix them up. You see what Connor needs."

"Are you sure?" Lupin asked her, sounding concerned.

"Absolutely," she assured him. "It's nothing."

She smiled at Connor as she left the room.

"What can I do for you, Connor?" Lupin asked kindly, waving his wand to dry himself.

"I came for our Occlumency session," Connor said. He was just about to add that his hands were itching, so maybe Occlumency should wait, but the itching died down a bit, becoming bearable. "I was starting to make weather predictions, so I thought it was time."

"Sounds about right," Lupin agreed. "Come on up to my office. What's the weather going to be like, anyway?"

"More snow," Connor said sardonically.

"Is it snowing?" Lupin looked surprised by this announcement.

"Yeah," Connor said sulkily. "Quidditch practice is going to stink on Monday."

Connor followed Lupin up the steps and took his usual seat in front of the desk.

"How are your hands?" Lupin asked casually.

"They were itching a minute ago," Connor admitted, wondering (not for the first time) if Lupin could read his mind sometimes. "But they stopped."

"All right then," Lupin said, eyeing Connor's hands, apparently satisfied that they looked fine, "let's get started."

Connor went through all of the steps that he normally practiced, and Professor Lupin followed his practice by casting a very light Legilimens spell on his student. By the time they were finished, Connor was refreshed, and his hands didn't itch in the least.

"You're doing well," Lupin praised. "I don't think you really need these sessions all that much, though they can't hurt. How about same time next week?"

Connor agreed and went meet his friends in the Great Hall for dinner.

That night, Connor went to bed, and found the Marauder's Map folded up, blank, under his pillow. He spent and enjoyable hour with Zack and Quentin, watching the dot labelled _Rupert_ sitting in the hallway outside of his common room, seemingly unable to get in.

"Looks like Rupert finally ate the Flatulent Fancy," Connor said with a laugh.

"Bet you anything they changed the password after they tossed him out," Quentin said.

By the time the Gryffindor boys decided to go to sleep, Rupert was still in the hallway.

**_A/N - Please forgive any mistakes in this chapter, as I was horribly ill this week, and didn't get it to my beta readers in time. As always, reviews are appreciated, and I will respond to each one on my LJ, which you can reach through my author page._**


	10. Chapter Ten Sneaky Boy

**Chapter Ten – Sneaky Boy**

_You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is that you meet it with courage and with the best that you have to give. --Eleanor Roosevelt_

Sunday morning was spent out on the grounds, in a massive inter-house snowball fight.

Connor and Quentin managed to hold off an attack from Ravenclaw operatives by barraging them with snowballs and friendly insults. Meanwhile, Ivy, Zack and Rachel constructed a formidable snow wall to repel further attacks.

It wasn't until they had beaten the Ravenclaws into retreat and Quentin complained that he couldn't feel his hands anymore, even with gloves on, that Connor and the others relented and trooped inside.

An hour later, Madam Pince was glaring at them as they entered the library, as if suspecting that they were up to something – students didn't ordinarily spend much time in the library on Sundays. Her expression softened when she spotted Ivy, who was her particular favourite, and she left them to their own devices.

"We've only got about an hour until lunch," Rachel said. "And the library closes early today, so we won't have a lot of time to look later."

"It's not like we have a deadline, Rachel," Quentin told her with mild exasperation. "Let's just look for anything that's likely to help us, and meet back here. We can check out the books we decide to search and take them back to the Tower."

I made a list of places to start looking," Rachel said. "I thought it would be good if we each took an area to search so that we don't overlap each other."

"I think you're channelling your mother again," Connor told Rachel as she produced a scroll of parchment with a list of subjects on it.

"Ha-ha," Rachel said dryly. "You can look under cartography."

Connor winced, but nodded. He knew that there was no arguing with Rachel when she set her mind to something.

He wandered over to the massive card catalogue to begin his search, thinking that there had to be an easier way to go about this. At this rate, they would be searching for months!

The week before, when they had been planning to smuggle Rachel out of the castle and into Hogsmeade, Connor had observed that their marauding would be easier if they had more than one map. Rachel had agreed, and had immediately started making plans to figure out if it was possible to duplicate the map, or if they would have to make one from scratch.

Quentin appeared beside Connor, and slid open a long, narrow drawer full of book listings.

"What does she have you looking for?" Connor asked Quentin.

"Duplication spells," Quentin said with a sigh. "I'm still not sure how she talked us all into this."

"It's a gift," Connor murmured, flipping through the cards in this own drawer. "She used to talk me into doing the weirdest things while we were growing up."

Connor found the general area that he was looking for, and headed into the stacks to see what he could find about map making.

"Hey, look at this," Quentin said as they were around a table in a corner of the common room later that night.

There was a large stack of books in the centre of their group, and they each had one in front of them as well.

"What's up?" Ivy asked absently, turning a page in _Plotting the Unplottable_.

"This book was checked out by James Potter years ago," Quentin announced, getting their attention immediately.

"Ooh!" Rachel beamed at Quentin, looking pleased. "He was one of the makers of the original map, so that's good sign."

The Connor flipped to the front of the book he was holding, and perused the checkout card pasted to the inside of the front cover. He noticed the others doing the same.

"This one only goes back to the 1990's," Zack said. "It's either a newer book, or the card's been replaced since the Marauder's time."

"That doesn't mean it won't be useful," Rachel pointed out, writing the name of Quentin's book neatly on a piece of parchment. "I'm going to keep a list of all of the books that were definitely checked out by any of the Marauders, and another of all of the ones that we've already looked at so that we don't do more work than necessary."

"You do realize that this could take years," Connor said to Rachel.

"Yes," she admitted, not seeming in the least bit discouraged. "But a lot of the work is already done for us! We won't have to actually map out the entire castle and grounds, because we already have that part done. We just need to figure out how to animate it and to get it to give us information about passwords and such, like the original map does."

"This one was checked out by both James Potter and Remus Lupin," Ivy said, having plucked another book from the stack in front of them to check.

Quentin picked up another, and inspected it. "The card is old enough, but none of the Marauders ever checked it out."

They all turned their attention to the books piled in front of them, and in the end, came up with two others that had been checked out by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Connor felt pleased that they seemed to be on the right track, but wasn't going to hold out hope that they'd figure out all the map's secrets any time soon.

They searched through the books that seemed the most promising until it was time to go to bed, and planned to meet in the library after classes the next day to return a few of the books, and to inspect the map for clues about what they needed to research.

At breakfast the next morning, both Connor and Quentin were both sniffling, and Ivy was sneezing every few minutes. Connor looked at the other student around the Great Hall and saw many other students were similarly afflicted. He had a feeling that Professor Snape was going to be called upon very shortly to begin brewing large amounts of _Pepper Up Potion_ for Madam Cosgrove.

"How as practice this morning?" Zack asked as he spooned up a third helping of porridge, tossing in a handful of raisins.

"Not too bad, actually," Connor said. "It was cold, but since it wasn't snowing at the time, it wasn't much different from any other time."

"Speak for yourself," Quentin grumbled. "You're not the one with the black eye."

"Well that wasn't the weather's fault," Ivy pointed out unsympathetically. "It was that ridiculous stunt you were trying to perform on your 'improved' broomstick."

"If that manoeuvre had worked, it would have – what's that smell?" Quentin's face scrunched up in distaste.

"Sorry," Connor said, feeling his cheeks heat. "I was just putting some cream on my hands – they've been itching all morning."

Ivy plucked the ointment from Connor's hands and held it just under her nose, with her eyes closed. "Garlic, bay, eucalyptus…"

"I don't remember it smelling that bad before," Zack commented, before Ivy could get carried away with her analysis."

"It was bandaged up before," Connor said.

"Well go on back to Cosgrove and have her bandage them again," Rachel advised.

"Right," Connor said sarcastically. "I'm sure Professor Snape won't mind me missing the fist half of class. We're finishing up a potion from last Thursday, and if I'm not there, I won't get full marks."

"Not to mention that I'll have to finish it alone," Zack protested.

"Don't make me depend on Zack to get a good grade," Connor said to Rachel, then turned to Zack and added, "No offence."

"None taken," Zack assured him.

"The ointment is already working, anyway," Connor said. "If they're still bothering me after potions, I'll think about seeing Madam Cosgrove."

Rachel tutted at Connor while gathering her books, but didn't press the issue.

By the time double Potions was over, Connor had forgotten all about his itching hands until he was seated next to Quentin in History of Magic.

"I should have gone to the Hospital Wing," Connor muttered as Professor Binns droned on.

"Hands itching still?" Quentin asked.

"Well, they are, but I was thinking more of using it as an excuse to get out of here," Connor said with a chuckle. "When am I ever going to need to know why Beelin the Berserker tried to wrestle two wood trolls at once?"

"Beats me," Quentin said.

Ivy turned and shushed them with a scowl.

"You know, we could probably still get out of here – you for your eye, and me for my hands," Connor said temptingly.

Ivy was glaring at them again.

"Better not," Quentin said nervously. "We'd never hear the end of it from Ivy."

Connor sighed, as Ivy looked smug and returned to her note taking.

After class, Connor decided that he'd better go to Madam Cosgrove after all - his hands were still bothering him despite the foul-smelling cream he'd applied. The itch wasn't very intense, but it wasn't fading away like it normally did, either.

"I'll go with you and get my eye fixed before lunch," Quentin offered.

They made their way to the Hospital Wing and were not surprised to find a lot of students waiting for a dose of _Pepper Up Potion_ after spending the previous day in the snow.

"Maybe we _should_ have come down during History of Magic," Connor said when they saw everyone. "At this rate, we'll miss lunch."

"Mr Potter," Madam Cosgrove said when she saw him enter, "are you here because of your hands?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, scratching as the itching became more intense. "I used the cream earlier, but they've been itching since this morning."

"Come along to my office," she said briskly, coming forward to lead him by the arm past all of the sneezing and coughing students.

"Quentin needs his eye looked at, too!" Connor said as he was tugged along.

"Very well," the matron replied. "Come along, Mr Malfoy."

At the entrance to her office, Madam Cosgrove stopped at a small table that had been set up, where a young witch in lime green robes was standing, and administering beakers to waiting students. Connor recognised the symbol of the crossed wand and bone as one worn by mediwitches from St. Mungo's.

"Apprentice Bodine," the matron addressed the other witch, "Professor Snape should be along shortly with another supply of _Pepper Up_. Please see to it that each of the students gets the correct dosage and send them on their way quickly. Anyone who comes in for any other reason should be sent to me."

"Yes, Madam Cosgrove," the apprentice witch answered with a sort of odd curtsy. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity."

Madam Cosgrove waved away the thanks, and turned to gesture that Connor and Quentin should precede her into her office.

"Worth her weight in gold, that one," Madam Cosgrove said as she rummaged through a cabinet. "It's a pity St. Mungo's can't spare her for more than a few days. Now let's deal with Mr Malfoy's injury first."

"He got hit in the eye with the handle of his own broomstick," Connor supplied, more for the pleasure teasing Quentin than to give Madam Cosgrove information.

"No matter," she said, squeezing a bright blue paste onto the tip of her finger and dabbing it liberally over Quentin's black eye. "Do stop scratching, Mr Potter."

"Did the ointment I provided do no good?" a familiar voice asked from the doorway.

Connor looked over to see Professor Snape holding two very large bottles of neatly labelled _Pepper Up Potion_, and looking down his nose a Connor inquiringly.

"It helped a little, Sir," Connor told his teacher. He was not keen on telling Snape that any potion he had brewed had not worked in an exemplary manner. "The itching just doesn't seem to be fading today like it normally does, though it's not as irritating as it could be."

The Professor turned his eyes to Madam Cosgrove, who answered his silent query, "I've not been able to find anything remotely useful at all, I'm afraid. This case has me baffled. I was considering sending him to St. Mungo's for a consultation with a specialist if it persists."

Connor groaned.

"Hands," Professor Snape demanded, setting down the potion he had brought, and picking up a small beaker from atop the matron's desk before turning back to Connor.

Connor held out his hands, and before he could so much as blink or brace himself, the professor had drawn his wand and waved it over Connor's right hand.

Snape muttered, "_Abscido Pellicula!" _

Connor and Quentin both gasped as a thin strip of skin peeled itself from the back of Connor's hand. Connor was amazed that it hadn't hurt at all, and watched as Snape directed the skin with his wand so that it floated into the beaker he was holding.

"I shall inform you of my findings, if any," the professor told Madam Cosgrove without looking at either of boys. "In the meantime, you might try the _Conglacare _spell if Mr Potter's condition becomes critical."

"Do you think I should consult St. Mungo's, or should I wait for your input on the matter?" Madam Cosgrove asked deferentially.

"His daily routine doesn't seem to be suffering thus far," Snape observed. "I would think it prudent to wait until we have exhausted all avenues of research here, first."

Without waiting for an agreement from Madam Cosgrove, Snape turned on his heel and departed with the beaker containing the strip of Connor's skin inside.

"Aren't you the least bit creeped-out by the fact that Professor Snape is walking about with a bit of you in a jar?" Quentin asked Connor a moment later.

Connor shrugged, and was about to reply until Madam Cosgrove tutted at them.

"That will be enough out of you, Mr Malfoy," the matron said sternly. "Your eye is healed; you should see Apprentice Bodine for some _Pepper Up_ for that cold. Then you should be heading to the Great Hall for lunch."

"See you later, Quint," Connor said as Quentin gathered his school bag.

"Now for you, Connor," Madam Cosgrove said. "I'm not sure that there is much more that we can do for you at this point, except to rely on Professor Snape to find something in the sample he took from your hand."

"So I should just go to lunch now, too?" Connor asked hopefully. His stomach made its wishes known as well with a loud grumble.

"Not so fast, young man," Madam Cosgrove said. "I still need to treat the immediate problem."

"It's not as bad as it was a few minutes ago," Connor assured her.

"But your hands _are_ still itching?" she asked shrewdly.

Reluctantly, Connor nodded and mentally sighed as he imagined he'd be missing lunch. He watched as the matron bustled about her office, and ground some herbs with a mortar and pestle to add to a creamy base of some sort that Connor couldn't identify. At least it smelled better then the other ointment he had been using.

"What about the spell that Professor Snape mentioned?" he asked as he watched her work.

"Oh, that would only be used in an emergency," Madam Cosgrove told him. "I'm afraid it would completely deaden any feeling at all to your hands, and render them useless until the spell was lifted. We would only use that one if there was a chance that you were under the threat of serious bodily harm."

"Oh," Connor said in disappointment.

He held out his hands dutifully when asked, and sighed in relief as the cream was spread on his hands, causing a cooling, numbing sensation to spread from his wrists to the tips of his fingers.

"Better?" Madam Cosgrove was smiling at the obvious expression of relief on his face.

"Much," he assured her. "It feels tingly."

"That's what it's supposed to do," she said in a satisfied tone. "Once it's taken its full effect, you might find that the lessened feeling in your hands may make you a bit clumsy at holding things for a while. Just be careful – with your wand especially. I'm going to wrap your hands in gauze again, but you may remove it once your classes are over fore the day."

Connor agreed to leave the bandages on until the cream began to wear off, and gratefully took the small jar of extra cream that she offered him. With a bit of luck, he would be able to grab something in the Great Hall to eat on the way to Care of Magical Creatures class.

"And Connor," Madam Cosgrove called after him as he was leaving her office, "you are to see Apprentice Bodine as well."

"That's okay," Connor hedged, "it's only the sniffles."

"Never you mind that, then," Madam Cosgrove smiled, eyeing him beadily. "I've got a nice supply of it right here, thanks to Professor Snape."

Connor made a disgusted face as she poured him a steaming beaker full, and she watched to make certain that he drank every last drop.

He muttered to himself all the way down to the Great Hall while his skin flushed bright red and steam poured from his ears.

Unfortunately, luck wasn't with Connor in the afternoon, either. The meal at lunch had been a choice of stew or shepherd's pie – neither one of which was easily eaten on the run. He settled for a roll from a basket, an apple shoved into his bag, and a couple of biscuits hidden haphazardly in the pocket of his robes. The lesson in Care of Magical Creatures was supposed to be one of theory, so he didn't have to worry about wild animals stealing his food.

He dashed up to Gryffindor Tower to grab the books he would need for his afternoon classes, and stuffed the map in his bag. He was supposed to meet the others to work on puzzling out the creation of the map after classes. It seemed easier to take it with him now, than to have to make the trip all the way back to his dorm room after Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

The library was practically deserted after classes, and Connor guessed it was because of the large amount of people he had seen in the corridors suffering from the after-effects of _Pepper Up Potion._ His own face had taken more than half an hour to cool down and return to its normal colour after Madam Cosgrove had bullied him into taking some.

He settled at a table in a quiet corner beside Quentin and across from Ivy. They studied the map while Rachel and Zack returned some of the books that they had checked out before.

"Well, I think I may have found a charm that might work to find books checked out by the Marauders," Zack said, looking up from a thick tome that he was perusing as he joined them at the table.

Rachel settled herself beside Ivy and, and looked smug, "It was my idea," she informed them loftily.

"What kind of charm?" Quentin asked.

"It's a kind of locator charm," Zack said as he sat next to Connor. "I can work on the library in sections if it works. After I cast the charm, the books that have cards with the names James Potter, Sirius Black or Remus Lupin will slide about an inch out of their places on the shelves."

"Brilliant," Quentin said excitedly. "Let's try it!"

"Yeah," Connor drawled. "I'm sure Madam Pince will be just thrilled to death to let us practice casting charms on her precious books."

"You've got a point," Ivy agreed. "Even if we can distract her long enough to try it out, there are bound to be some areas that we wouldn't be able to hide what we were doing in."

"It will still narrow down the search quite a bit in the areas we _can _use the charm," Rachel said. "That's better than nothing."

"True," Ivy admitted. "Which section do you think would be the best to test it -"

Ivy's question was interrupted by a sudden blood-curdling scream coming from the front of the library. The friends all looked at each other in alarm for a moment, before rising as one and running toward the continued screaming.

Madam Pince was clutching at her chest panting out, "What is it?" in a panicked voice, to a girl huddled against the wall by the front desk.

"A h-h-h-huge sp-spider!" the girl answered, pointing to the doorway. "I was as big as a cat!"

Connor stared at the girl, as Slytherin first year from the look of her, and fought the urge to laugh. Everyone knew that there were huge spiders roaming around Hogwarts, even though they rarely made an appearance.

Rachel, Connor noticed, looked revolted and was looking around a bit wildly – she was terrified of spiders.

"For Merlin's sake, girl!" Madam Pince snapped. "You mean to tell me that you caused all of this ruckus over a spider? You nearly gave me heart failure!"

"But it was so big!" the girl said in argument.

"Nonsense!" Madam Pince said.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Everyone turned to see an irate-looking Professor Snape bearing down on the crowd that had gathered around.

Connor, not wanting to be around catch any of the over-spill of Snape's anger, nudged Quentin, and headed back to their table.

"We left the map!" Rachel suddenly whispered.

They all rushed back to the map, to find that it was still visible to anyone who cared to look, though Connor couldn't tell if it had been moved at all.

"So you think anyone saw it?" Zack asked worriedly.

Connor's eyes scanned the immediate area on the map, and his stomach clenched when he noted that a dot labelled _Rupert Dursley_ was leaving the library, edging around the small crowd still gathered there.

"Damn it!" Connor hissed, pointing to the dot.

"Oh no," Rachel moaned. "You don't think he saw?"

"Even if he did, what good would it do him?" Quentin asked.

Connor scowled down at the map as he saw a dot marked _Melanie Melrose_ walk away from Professor Snape and move down the corridor. She turned a corner, where her dot met the one labelled _Rupert Dursley_. They stood together for a few moments, and then moved off together toward the Slytherin common room.

"I don't know what's going on with Rupert and Melanie," Rachel said thoughtfully, "but we should keep our eyes open, just in case. This seems like a set up to me."

"I get the same feeling," Connor admitted. "I think that Rupert wanted to get a look at the map and maybe paid that girl to cause a distraction."

"I can't believe we didn't wipe it clean before we left it," Zack said. "We should keep it up in Gryffindor Tower from now on"

"I think you're right," Ivy agreed. "There's no way of knowing what Rupert might have seen; we were only gone for a minute or two."

"He might not have seen anything," Rachel pointed out. "It could all just be a coincidence."

"Do you really believe that?" Connor asked her.

"No," Rachel answered with a sigh.

"I still think that even if he did get a look at it, it wouldn't have done him any good," Quentin asserted. "He probably noticed us looking at it before and wondered what we were doing. It's not news that he doesn't like being left out of anything."

"That's true," Connor said, thinking of the time when Rupert had practically demanded Occlumency lessons because Connor was having them. "But let's not let it happen again. I don't even want to think about what Rupert might get up to if he knew about half of the secret passages around here."

Nodding, they packed up their bags and retreated to Gryffindor Tower.

After dinner, Connor devoted his time to homework, and then played chess until late with Ivy before going to bed. He practiced his Occlumency and laid in the dark, listening to the others soft snores.

For some reason, he couldn't sleep, and it didn't take him long to realize that he was hungry. He pulled the map out from beneath his pillow, and used his wand to see if the way to the kitchens was clear.

Letting his eyes roam all over the map, he quickly noted that the hardly anyone was out in the corridors. Professor McGonagall was in her office, and Professor Lupin and Ms. Grayson seemed to be having a late-night meeting in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The rest of the professors and staff seemed to be in their private quarters.

"What a minute," Connor murmured quietly to himself. "Where's Filch and Mrs Norris?"

It certainly wouldn't do to get caught by the ancient caretaker or his mangy old cat. The two of them seemed to be able to appear out of thin air, despite the fact that it was well known that Filch was a squib.

Connor quickly spotted Filch in his private rooms, with Mrs Norris in her usual spot, practically on top of her owner's head. Connor thought that it was early for the pair to retire for the night, but he wasn't going to complain. He slipped out of bed and was shoving his arms into his dressing gown and taking one last look over the map before reaching for his wand. Then he saw it.

The tiny dot that was marked as _Mrs Norris_ began to fade – then disappeared all together.

Connor stared at the spot where the dot had been just a moment before, but now it was just gone. He scanned the area all around the caretaker's quarters, but could not find her anywhere at all on the map.

"Show me Mrs. Norris!" Connor hissed at the map, feeling a bit desperate, pointing his wand to the spot that now only read _Argus Filch_.

The lines of the map faded away, and Connor felt a jolt of panic; he hadn't said the password to clear the map! A moment later, fine lines began to appear across the surface of the map, forming words.

_Mr Prongs regrets to inform you that Mrs Norris is not on Hogwarts grounds._

_Mr Padfoot adds that this should come as a great relief to any true Marauder!_

_Mr Wormtail agrees with Mr. Padfoot and adds a hearty, 'Thank Merlin!' at the news of her disappearance._

_Mr Moony wonders why anyone would want to find that miserable old fleabag in the first place!_

Connor stared disbelievingly at the map that seemed to be addressing him personally. It was kind of creepy and intriguing at the same time.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to worry about that right now. Mrs Norris's label had faded from the map, and the map itself had told him that she wasn't on the grounds. That could really only mean one thing, couldn't it?

Jamming his feet into his slippers, Connor folded the map and slipped it into the pocket of his dressing gown. He'd seen Professor Lupin in his office.

Connor crept down the silent corridors, shivering in the cold that seemed to be emanating from the stone walls in icy waves. He knew that he could tell Lupin about what he had seen on the map without fear of being punished for being out of bed after hours.

Connor couldn't just leave the old caretaker all night with a dead cat wrapped around his head – that was just gross. As much as he disliked the old man, Connor knew that Filch loved the old cat, and would be devastated by her death.

He reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts office and was relieved to see that there was still a light burning inside. He knocked quickly and called out quietly, "Professor Lupin?"

The door opened not to Professor Lupin, but to Ms Grayson, who looked surprised to see Connor there.

"Connor! Is something wrong? Is it your hands again?" she asked with concern evident in her voice.

She quickly seized his hands and studied them as she drew him inside the warm office.

"My hands are fine," Connor said, gently pulling his hands from her grasp. "I was hoping that Professor Lupin would be here."

"He just went home," Ms Grayson said, with no less concern than before. "Should I call him back?"

"I…I don't know," Connor said, uncertain of what to do.

"Can you tell me what the problem is? Did you have a vision?" she asked him gently.

He looked at her sharply for a moment, then realised the she'd given her the perfect explanation.

"Er, yes, actually," he said. "It's just that Mrs Norris…"

"Mr Filch's cat?" Ms Grayson asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes," Connor answered, nodding his head. "I'm afraid that she's died."

"Oh dear," she replied after a moment's thought. "The poor man will be crushed."

"Well, the thing is," Connor said uncomfortably when he saw tears spring to her eyes. "Mr Filch doesn't know about it yet, I don't think – and she still in there with him."

"In where?" she asked, seeming to banish her tears by force of will.

"In his rooms, I guess. He was in bed, I think." Connor said, trying to act as though he were relating a vision rather than reporting a known fact.

"Right," she said briskly. "I think that you should go back to bed, Connor. I'll handle the rest, and make sure that someone sees to it."

Connor nodded, feeling relieved, but unsettled. He definitely wasn't hungry anymore, but he knew that he wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon, either.

When he got back to his room, he lay in bed and took out a parchment and quill, and began what turned out to be a very long letter home.

The next couple of days went by without much incident, except for the fact the news of Mrs Norris's demise spread through the school. Mr Filch had not been seen at all around the school since he cat had died, and Connor could not help but feel sorry for the man. Most students, however, did not see any reason to mourn for either man or cat.

On Thursday, Connor had barely stepped out of Charms class when Whitney Glendale accosted him in the hallway, telling him that they were going to be having Quidditch practice that afternoon.

"But it's snowing!" Quentin exclaimed when came out of the classroom and overheard her.

"It'll still be a lot warmer to practice this afternoon then it would be tomorrow morning," Whitney pointed out. "Slytherin cancelled their practice today, and I signed up for their time slot. They're mad cancelling any practice with their match against Ravenclaw being the day after tomorrow."

Connor simply shrugged, and headed back to Gryffindor Tower to change, hastily eating the biscuits he had saved from lunchtime as he went.

Ivy didn't seem terribly bothered by the change in the practice schedule, pointing out that might be playing a real game in worse weather in just two weeks when Gryffindor played against Ravenclaw.

"Ravenclaw hasn't cancelled any of their practices," Ivy told the others as they stopped to cast warming charms on their practice robes and don their goggles before going out into the cold. "It will be good to watch them play Slytherin, so we can get an idea of how good a team they have this year."

"I need to talk to my dad about automatic heating charms for our broomsticks," Rachel said as they waded through the snow toward the pitch.

"Nuts to this!" Quentin said after only a few metres into the snow.

He stopped to mount his broom, and the others followed suit, riding the rest of the way through the lightly falling snow.

The snow stopped fifteen minutes into practice, and while it was cold, the low clouds seemed to be keeping the temperatures bearable.

Whitney kept them practicing for well over two hours, and was satisfied by the end of that time that they could be trusted to play well in adverse whether conditions.

It wasn't until Connor had showered and gotten changed, that he realised that he had a headache coming on, and that he would have to stop and practice his Occlumency before attempting to go to dinner or tackle his homework.

Unfortunately for him, his Occlumency took almost an hour to complete, and by the time he was finished, the serving time for dinner had passed. He sat down gloomily at a table in the Common room to do his homework, hoping to have the chance to sneak to the kitchens later.

At bedtime, he briefly practiced his Occlumency once more, and got beneath the covers. After a half an hour of staring at the hangings of his bed, he retrieved the Marauder's Map and lit his wand, hoping that the light wouldn't wake anyone.

There was very little movement at this time of night, and so it was easy to see that the way to the kitchens appeared to be clear.

Slipping out of bed, Connor drew on his dressing gown and slid his feet into his slippers. He checked the map once more time to make sure that his way was clear, and then snuck down the stairs without it. He didn't want to risk getting caught with it in his possession if there were problems.

As luck would have it, Connor didn't meet anyone on his way downstairs, and the tickled the pear in the portrait without anyone catching him. He stepped into the warm kitchen and closed the entrance firmly behind him, smiling when he saw that there were still a dozen or so house elves scurrying about.

"Master Connor!"

An elf that Connor recognised from his many trips to the kitchen trotted over with a happy smile.

"Hello, Topsy," Connor greeted him. "Any chance of a midnight snack? I missed dinner."

"Students shouldn't be being out of bed at this time of night," Topsy scolded, even as he urged Connor into a seat at a nearby table in front of the fire.

A moment later, three other elves had appeared with a plate, goblet, and silverware, and enough food to feed an entire Quidditch team.

Connor ate his fill, and thanked the elves. He was now tired and full, and knew he would have no trouble falling asleep. He walked over to the back of the portrait, intending to slip out and hurry back to his room, when he heard a noise on the other side. A soft _tap, tap, tap_, maybe on the front of the portrait.

Connor waited until he couldn't hear the noise anymore, and then slowly pushed the portrait out a crack to see Rupert examining a large picture on the other side of the corridor. Connor grinned and stepped as silently as he could out of the kitchen and closed the portrait behind him. Rupert was mumbling to himself and tapping at the portrait in front of him with his wand, obviously trying to get it to open.

Connor realised that Rupert must have seen the map after all, and learned where the kitchens were on it. Unfortunately for him, a quick glance wouldn't have told Rupert the secret to getting inside, even if he knew where the entrance was.

Connor grinned as he crept up behind the other boy, whispering loudly, "Don't you know that students aren't supposed to be wandering around the school in the middle of the night?"

The shriek that Rupert let out could have rivalled that of a banshee, and Connor was badly startled by it. He pushed Rupert up against the wall and clamped a hand over his mouth to prevent him from making even more noise.

"What are you, a girl?" Connor hissed. "Screaming like that is bound to bring someone running! We need to get out of here _now_!"

"Indeed."

Connor felt as though someone had poured a bucket of icy water over his head as he registered Professor Snape's voice behind him. He took his hand from Rupert's mouths and stepped away to face his teacher, all the while trying to think of a convincing reason to be out of bed at this hour.

"P-professor S-Snape!" Rupert stammered, clearly terrified.

"What, may I ask," Snape drawled coldly, "are the two of you doing prowling around outside the kitchens two hours after curfew?"

Connor briefly considered lying to the professor, but was not confident enough to try it. Professor Snape was very accomplished at seeing through student's flimsy excuses, and giving him one was bound to make any punishment worse.

"Connor told me to meet him here!" Rupert said at once. "He said he had something important to tell me!"

The professor stared at Rupert for a moment and then turned his eyes to Connor. "Is this true, Mr Potter?"

"No, Sir," Connor said, feeling angry that Rupert would try to get him into even more trouble. "I came down here to see if I could get a midnight snack. I missed dinner and was hungry."

"You do realise that students are not supposed to be in the kitchens?" Snape asked silkily.

"No one ever told me it was against the rules, Sir." Connor said. It was true that it had been implied, but no one had ever told him that it was forbidden.

"And did you get your snack?" the Professor asked.

"The elves said that I shouldn't be out of bed at this time of night. I was just headed back to my room when I saw Rupert there, waving his wand around at that picture. It must have scared him to see me here, because he screamed like a girl." Connor hoped that my insulting Rupert a bit, that Snape would let it pass that he had evaded answering his last question. No use in getting the elves into trouble, after all.

"I see," Professor Snape said. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor, and detention – for both of you. You will report to me on Monday afternoon, immediately following classes."

"Yes, Sir." Connor nodded and turned to go, grateful that his punishment hadn't been worse.

As he retreated down the corridor, he could hear Professor Snape berating Rupert as they walked away in the opposite direction.

TBC in Chapter 11 - Payback

**A/N - I answer ALL reviews on my Live Journal, which you can reack through my author bio, or by going to LiveJournal dot com and looking me up under A isfor Amy with underscored betweeb each word - this site won't let me type it or my LJ address properly for some reason!**


	11. Chapter Eleven Payback

Chapter Eleven – Payback

_Consequences are unpitying. --George Eliot_

Connor told his friends about his detention the next morning at breakfast, and they all agreed that it was Rupert's fault. Rupert had obviously done something to attract Professor Snape's attention while attempting to sneak out of Slytherin's common room, and screaming when Connor had scared him had sealed their fate.

"Well at least he didn't set the detention for Saturday," Rachel said. "You'll still be able see the match."

"I'd bet that if Slytherin wasn't playing, Snape would have made him miss it," Zack said.

"Then it's a good thing they are, because Whitney wants us all to watch the match really carefully and watch Ravenclaw's strategies and how our counterparts on their team are flying," Ivy said. "I've heard they've put together a strong team this year."

"Hey, all!" Whitney walked over to their group and smiled at them all. "I've just come from talking to Madam O'Leary, and she agrees that Gryffindor should be allowed to have the Quidditch pitch in the evenings for practice, since the Slytherins don't have another match for over a month."

"Didn't the Ravenclaws want the evening spot?" Connor asked.

"No, they said they liked the afternoons just fine, so there's no conflict there," Whitney said. "So I wanted to let all of you know that, starting on Monday, we're going to be practicing from six-thirty to eight-thirty, so eat your dinner early. Anyone who misses a practice between now and out Ravenclaw match in two weeks will be in serious danger of being bumped to the reserve team until after the match."

"I'm already reserve," Rachel said.

"Not anymore," Whitney said bluntly. "Nelson just resigned his spot, which is just as well. His Keeping's been rubbish since term started, and your playing's been top notch. Nelson has agreed to stay on a reserve until we can find a new reserve Keeper. Congratulations."

"All right!" Quentin cheered.

Rachel grinned widely as everyone congratulated her. "I need to write to my dad!" she said excitedly.

"We've got to get to class," Connor said, though he was pleased for Rachel. "Or I'll be late for Divination, and I don't need another detention on top of Professor Snape's."

As Connor and Ivy headed for the door of the Great Hall, Connor felt someone shoulder past him rudely, and looked over to see Rupert walking away with a scowl. Evidently he was still angry about getting caught by Professor Snape the night before.

"Girl," Connor growled at him.

Rupert looked over his shoulder and made a rude hand gesture, which Connor was about to return, when Ivy grabbed his arm and shoved him toward the stairs.

"We're going to be late," she hissed at him as they climbed. "We can deal with that git later. Besides, Professor Flitwick was standing in the entrance hall."

The rest of the day went well for Connor, and by the time he left divination, he had forgotten about his earlier run-in with Rupert.

That night, Whitney called an impromptu meeting with the Gryffindor team, and told them that she expected each and every one of them to be at the match tomorrow.

"This is an important game," Whitney said as they stood in the common room. "And I'll expect each of you to be watching how your Ravenclaw counterpart is playing. Pay special attention to any special moves, weaknesses or plays they make so that we can properly exploit them."

The team asked a few questions and made a few comments before Whitney was satisfied that she'd make her orders clear.

"Remember," she told them sternly at the end of the meeting. "Starting on Monday, practice is _mandatory_ until our own match against Ravenclaw if you want to keep your place on the team. That goes for reserve players as well."

The next morning dawned clear and bright. There was no wind to speak of, and while it was frigid outside, at least sitting through the match wouldn't be too bad with the help of a few heating charms.

The Great Hall was noisy as the students prepared for an exciting match, and both the Slytherin and Ravenclaw teams could be seen huddled together at their tables, no doubt going over a bit of last minute strategy.

The Gryffindor team was also gathered together to discuss strategy, gathering information for their own upcoming match against Ravenclaw. They spent breakfast time pointing out Ravenclaw's players to each other and going over known weaknesses until it was time to leave the Great Hall for the match.

Connor, Quentin and Amanda walked out across the snowy grounds as a unit, with the Gryffindor reserve Chasers following and listening for any information that could help them. They climbed up to the highest seats they could find in the stands, and sat together as a team to watch their rivals battle out the first match of the season.

Zack squeezed in among them, and everyone waited for the players to emerge from the changing rooms. Despite the cold, it looked as if most of the students had come out to watch; the stands looked like they were filled to capacity.

Connor cast a warming charm on his gloves and pulled a pair of binoculars from his pocket. There was a slight buzzing in his head that told him that his Occlumency would need to be practiced soon, and he fumbled in his pockets for the Animus Orb, so that he could perform a quick session to hold him steady until after the match. He really shouldn't be having any problem at all, since he had spent at least a half an hour earlier Occluding properly before breakfast.

"Oh, no," he muttered to himself as his pockets failed to yield up the orb.

Connor thought back to the last time he had used the Animus Orb, and remembered slipping it into his school bag during Charms class. He didn't have it with him. He would just have to concentrate on the match and hope for the best.

A few minutes later, the two opposing teams took the field to tumultuous cheers or boos as the announcer called out the names of the players. Madam O'Leary supervised the captains shaking hands, and then signalled for the players to kick off before she released the balls.

Connor watched as the Snitch zipped away out of sight, and the bludgers shot high into the air. Madam O'Leary then tossed the Quaffle up to the waiting players, and the game was on.

"Stephanie Booth is always the one to make the first move with the Quaffle is put into play," Amanda said to Connor and Quentin above the din of the crowd. "She's fast, too. She plays left, so Quentin will be the one facing off with her when it's our turn to play."

"Lawrence Swann's broom is pulling down a bit," Connor observed aloud. "It seems like it's dragging a bit. And he's going to get an "O" on his Ancient Runes essay next Wednesday."

Quentin looked over at him strangely, then turned his eyes back to the game. Connor cursed under his breath as he realized that irrelevant thoughts were breaking through his concentration.

"Lawrence has a bit of a hook when he's trying to make a goal," Quentin said.

Connor tried to pay attention to the Ravenclaw Chasers, but was finding himself more and more distracted by the crowd around him, the running commentary of the announcer, and his teammates making noisy observations about the positions they were supposed to be studying. The buzzing in his head was becoming much more pronounced, and his head was beginning to really ache.

"Connor, are you all right?" Rachel said into his ear from behind him.

Connor shook his head, annoyed and distracted. "There's too much going on."

"Didn't you do your Occlumency?" she asked, taking her eyes from the match.

"I did it, but I guess there's just too many people or something. I'm just getting hit with tons of images I don't need."

Connor rubbed at his temples and sighed in resignation. There was no way he could stay here – he would have to leave and go back to the castle to go through his Occlumency again. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long, and he could make it back in time to see a good portion of the match and avoid Whitney's ire.

Quentin and Amanda looked surprised when Connor suddenly stood up and said, "Sorry, I need to get out of here."

Connor fled, shoving his way down the row of seats, ignoring anyone who called out to him. When he reached the isle, he trotted down the steps and jogged out of the stadium area toward the castle.

The mental noise that had begun to deafen him eased a little as he entered the quiet castle, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Thirty minutes later, Connor raced back down to the Quidditch Pitch, where a loud roar could be heard – someone must have scored a goal. Finding his seat again, Connor checked the scoreboard and found that Ravenclaw was leading by 50 points.

"Did I miss anything good?" Connor asked Quentin.

"The Snitch has been out twice," Quentin told him as he moved over to make a space between himself and Amanda. "It's a fast one today."

"Their Beaters are really good," Amanda said, leaning over to talk into his ear as the crowd cheered again at a missed attempt on the Ravenclaw goals.

Connor pretended not to notice that Whitney was glaring daggers at him from her place a few seats away, and concentrated on the game.

While Slytherin played a good game, they didn't seem to be any match for Ravenclaw. By the time Madam O'Leary blew the final whistle, Ravenclaw had beaten Slytherin 290- 90.

"Potter!"

Connor visibly cringed when Whitney called out to him.

Other students were filing out of the stands, and Connor had been hoping to delay the inevitable by getting lost in their midst. Unfortunately, Whitney was as adept at spotting her players as she was at spotting the Snitch.

"Where did you run off to? I thought I made it clear how important it was for you to be here to watch this match!" Whitney asked crossly.

Connor thought that her attitude probably had a lot to do with the fact that Ravenclaw had put on an excellent display of teamwork, and would be very hard to beat in two weeks time.

"Sorry," Connor said. "I couldn't help it."

Whitney eyed him beadily for a moment and asked, "Was it because of your precognition?'

Connor nodded, and watched with trepidation as her nostrils flared. "How can I keep you on the team, if you can't even _watch_ a match without problems? If you have this sort of situation while we're playing, we might as well just concede the match!"

"Look," Connor said a bit desperately, "I know I had a problem today, but I'll be all right! I'll work extra hard at practice, and on the morning of our match, I'll have Professor Lupin help me with my Occlumency so that I don't miss anything. I won't let it get in the way."

Whitney seemed to be considering his argument. "Okay, Potter," she said at last. "I'm going to take the risk that you can keep it under control. You're a good player, and I don't want to lose you. But I'm going to warn you now that if you screw up at the Ravenclaw match, you're out – off the team. I mean it."

Connor sighed with a mixture of relief and trepidation, and nodded. "It's a deal."

"Good," Whitney said. "Now get together with Amanda, Quentin and the reserve Chasers, and talk about anything you saw today that might help us beat Ravenclaw. See if the six of you can come up with some new plays. I want you to work closely with Randall Gordon, especially. He's the one who's going to replace you if you can't play, and I want him completely up to speed."

Connor didn't think that she would take any arguments well at that point, so he left Whitney and went to find his fellow Chasers. It didn't bode well that Whitney was already talking about replacing him, and Connor wanted very badly to prove her wrong. Still, he couldn't deny the fact that if his Occlumency failed him again he would have to forfeit his spot on the team – maybe permanently.

Connor dutifully found the other Chasers and trudged back up to the castle only to find Filch having some sort of temper tantrum in the entrance hall the likes of which they had never seen before. The caretaker's face was flushed red, and he was shaking like mad as he shook at first year Hufflepuff girl by the shoulder as he shouted. It wasn't unusual for Filch to get angry over messes left around the castle, but this was different.

"Mud! Look at all of this mud! Do think it's a joke to make a mess like this for me to clean up? Do you?" Filch's shouts had drawn a small crowd, and the attention only seemed to spur him to new heights of apoplexy. "You leave a mess like this behind without a second thought, but if someone was to slip and crack their head open on the ground, it would be me that got blamed, wouldn't it?"

The Hufflepuff girl had frightened tears in her eyes, and her friends, including Connor's cousin Maggie, stood nearby looking absolutely terrified. There was a collective sigh of relief when Ms Grayson and Professor Lupin came through the front doors to find the old man in the act of shaking the girl again.

Connor recognised the determined look in Lupin's eye as he stepped forward to deal with the matter at hand. Ms Grayson followed behind him, and as soon as the professor had extracted the girl from Filch's grip she gently guided the child away, making comforting noises all the while.

"Argus," Professor Lupin said gently. "Why don't we go to my office and discuss this?"

"Ain't nothin' to discuss." Filch spat angrily, his voice cracking. "Girl left a filthy mess all over the floor, and she needs to be punished for it! They think that just because _she's_ gone, they won't get caught…"

There was really no question to whom Filch was referring when he said that _she_ was gone.

Professor Lupin, to his credit, looked around for signs that the girl had actually made a deliberate mess in the entrance hall before dismissing Filch's complaint. Connor looked around, too, and saw that all of them had made wet or muddy tracks on the stone floor as they came in from the Quidditch match. It was unavoidable, really, _not_ to have left tracks behind.

"All right, Argus, I'll see to it," Lupin said warily, taking the other man's arm. "Let's get you back to your office and get you some tea. I'll make sure that Miss Armstrong gets what she deserves."

Filch's cheeks were still ruddy, and as Lupin firmly guided the old man past, Connor got a strong whiff of whiskey. It appeared that Filch had been drinking.

Once Lupin had led the inebriated Filch out of the entrance hall, the crowd began to disperse. Connor and the other Chasers retreated to Gryffindor Tower, where they discussed Quidditch for most of the day, breaking only for lunch and dinner. Filch didn't appear at either meal.

Connor spent Sunday doing homework, knowing that Monday would be completely taken up by whatever detention Professor Snape devised, and then Quidditch practice. By the time he'd finished his third essay, he was almost sure that the professors must occasionally congregate somewhere and plan to assign vast amounts of homework all at once.

Monday morning dawned with a fresh, thick layer of snow on the ground outside, and corridors that seemed colder than usual.

Connor was not looking forward to any but his last class of the day, and then he was going to be serving detention with Rupert before going outside to play Quidditch it what was likely to be freezing conditions.

His first class was potions, and even though Connor managed to brew a nearly perfect potion, Snape merely sneered nastily at him and reminded him that his detention began promptly at four o'clock.

"Sir," Connor asked timidly, thinking of his Quidditch practice at six-thirty. Whitney would kill him if he missed it. "May I ask how long my detention will be?"

"As long as it takes you to finish the task I assign you," Snape snapped. "Now return to your seat!"

Connor mentally groaned. Snape was notorious for his long and labour intensive detentions.

At lunch, Connor ate three helpings of shepherd's pie, and stuffed two oranges and a handful of humbugs into his schoolbag for later. He didn't think he'd be risking a nighttime trip down to the kitchens again anytime soon.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was a surprise when Connor and the others arrived to find Ms Grayson there to greet them.

"Professor Lupin has had to take a short personal business trip," Ms Grayson told them once they were settled. "He should be away for the next four or five days, through the time of the full moon. He should be back a couple of days before Halloween. In the meantime, you're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

This wasn't particularly bad news as far as most of them were concerned. The students liked Ms Grayson's teaching style, and respected her enough to behave well in Lupin's absence.

After an enjoyable class about the dangers of red caps, Connor collected his school bag and asked Quentin to take his Quidditch kit down to the changing rooms for him. He didn't want to waste any time in getting to the dungeons in case Snape was in a foul mood.

He met Rupert outside of the Potions classroom and ignored him completely until Rupert shoved him out of the way so he could enter the room ahead of Connor.

"Ladies first," Connor said acidly.

Rupert was about to retort when Professor Snape cleared his throat from the front of the room, where he was seated at his desk.

"Take a seat, gentlemen," Snape said calmly, not looking up from the parchment he was looking over. "At the same table," he added when the boys began to head to opposite sides of the room.

Connor sat down at the table nearest to Snape's desk, and stared at Rupert until he did the same. They sat in silence and waited to hear what task they would be given, not looking at each other. It was a full five minutes before Snape looked up and regarded them before speaking.

"You will be harvesting flobberworm mucus today," he told the boys. "I will show you the procedure, and then you will go about your work silently until the job is finished. You will leave only when the job is finished, is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Connor answered, feeling a measure of relief. He had learned how to do this in his Care of Magical Creatures class, and while the chore wasn't pleasant, it wasn't exactly difficult, either.

The Professor then levitated two huge wooden barrels from a corner of the room, and settled them in front of the worktable where the boys sat. Next, he summoned two large glass beakers from a nearby shelf. Connor ran through a litany of swear words in his head, but said nothing as Snape pried the lid from one of the barrels to reveal what must have been thousands of fat flobberworms writhing around inside.

"Gross! You want us to touch those?" Rupert exclaimed, jumping to his feet and stepping backward in disgust.

Snape's only reply to that was a stare that made Rupert gulp audibly and resume his seat.

"The flobberworm has a gland approximately two thirds of the way down its body," the professor said, picking up one of the foot-long worms and competently locating the gland. "You will gently use your thumb and forefinger to stimulate this gland, and then drag your fingers slowly backward toward the tail of the worm, catching the secreted mucus in the beaker."

Expertly demonstrating the technique, the professor held the tail of the worm over the mouth of the beaker and made Rupert gag as a thick grey fluid oozed from the worm and into the receptacle. The entire process took between five and ten seconds.

"You will not," the Professor said, ignoring Rupert's reaction, "Cause any damage to the worms if you do the technique properly. I expect it to be done properly."

He pried the lid from the other barrel, and Connor was relieved to see that it was empty. One barrel alone could take them hours to complete if they weren't efficient about it, and Connor didn't have that kind of time. Snape dropped the worm he had just milked into the empty barrel and wiped his hands on a cloth from his pocket.

"May we get started, Professor?" Connor asked.

"I would suggest you do," Snape answered with a cocked eyebrow. "I will watch you both for the first couple of tries, and then leave you to it. Inform me when the barrel is empty, and I will dismiss you."

Connor determinedly picked up one of the worms, which was slightly slimy and cool, and extracted the required mucus into the beaker, just as he had been shown. Snape said nothing, but turned his eyes to Rupert to supervise him, instead.

Connor selected another worm, and repeated the process, trying to ignore Rupert's whimpering as he timidly picked up a worm, and promptly dropped it with a gasp.

"Don't be stupid!" Snape snarled at Rupert. "It hasn't even got any teeth. Pick it up and do as I told you. You will be here for a very long time, indeed, at this rate."

Connor gritted his teeth and dropped his worm in the empty barrel, scooping up another. By the time Rupert had extracted the mucus from just one worm (which he killed in the process), Connor had finished seven of them. He sneered at Rupert and mouthed "girl" as he continued with his task.

"That will be enough, Potter," Snape said mildly. "Continue with your own job and let Dursley do his."

Connor nodded and scooped up another worm. The smell of the mucus was unpleasant, but not overwhelming, and certainly not as vile as Rupert was making it out to be. Connor soon established a rhythm.

Once Snape was satisfied that Rupert could perform the task without killing every single one of the worms, he retreated to a small office, just off to the side of the classroom. As soon as Snape disappeared from view, Rupert slowed considerably in his efforts.

"Why would anyone ever want to do this?" Rupert grumbled.

"Flobberworm mucus is a valuable potions ingredient," Connor told him in a tone that also said, 'You're an idiot.'

"It's disgusting!" Rupert complained.

"Look," Connor said angrily without pausing in his work, "I have Quidditch practice in two and a half hours, and I _have_ to be there. The faster we work, the sooner we can get out of here."

"Well, _I_ don't have anywhere to be tonight," Rupert said slyly, tossing the one worm he had milked since Snape left into the barrel. "So I can take all the time I want. If you're so eager to get out of here, you'd better work faster."

Connor couldn't believe what he was hearing. Rupert was actually planning on making him do almost all of the work, knowing that Connor wouldn't have a choice if he wanted to make it to Quidditch practice.

"Rupert," Connor said, seeing red. "If you don't get your fat bum in gear and help me with these flobberworms, I swear you'll regret it."

"I don't think so," Rupert said. "You're the one in a hurry."

Connor stared hard at Rupert for a moment, pausing in his work, and then forced a smile to his lips as he said, "Fine. Don't say you weren't warned."

"I'm terrified," Rupert said with a bored air, taking as much time as humanly possible to milk another worm.

"You should be," Connor promised darkly.

He didn't speak another word to Rupert for the next three hours.

Professor Snape surveyed the seven and a half beakers full of mucus once Connor had informed him that he was done, and said, "Very well, you may go."

Connor spared one moment to glare at Rupert, who was looking smug over the half-beaker he had filled, and said soft to the Slytherin boy, "Don't forget what I said."

He walked out of the classroom, and then sprinted for the Quidditch pitch. He took precious minutes to change into his practice robes, and then sprinted out onto the pitch to join the practice with had already been underway for forty-five minutes.

Whitney was so furious with his tardiness that she shouted at him for ten minutes, berating him for leaving and missing half of Saturday's match, and now being late for a mandatory practice. She was so mad that she made him switch his outer robes and play on the reserve team for the rest of practice.

Connor went through all of the drills and a short scrimmage so angry with Rupert that his throws were a little more aggressive than usual. Once, the Quaffle struck the hoop so hard, that the entire goal post vibrated

"What is wrong with you today?" Rachel asked in exasperation during a brief lull in play.

"Rupert needs to be taught a lesson," he growled.

She didn't have time to question him further, as the Quaffle was put back in play.

By the end of practice, Connor was soaked with perspiration from his efforts, and breathing heavily. He had scored against Rachel more than anyone else had since the term began, and Whitney softened in her attitude a bit.

"At least you played well," she conceded as they headed to the changing rooms. "Don't be late again."

Connor assured her that he wouldn't miss any more practices, and then went to take a long, hot shower. His hands ached from milking flobberworms for hours, and his shoulders were protesting the ferocity with which Connor had been abusing them during practice.

"What happened?" Quentin asked, stepping into the shower stall beside Connor. "Rachel said something about Rupert."

Letting the steaming water pound on his back and relieve some of the tension in his muscles, Connor related the story of Rupert's behaviour at detention.

"I am going to deliver up revenge for this," Connor vowed. "Profoundly."

"Count me in," Quentin volunteered. "In fact, once the team finds out that Rupert deliberately kept you from practice, you can probably count on all of them to help out, as well."

"He's going to regret not listening to me," Connor said with a malicious smile as he turned off the water and wrapped himself in a towel.

Quentin towelled his hair dry and smiled as well, "We're going to need a plan."

"We're going to need several," Connor chuckled.

The next day at breakfast, Connor was smiling as Rupert found that someone had performed a permanent sticking charm on his shoes while he ate.

Connor wasn't there when the dung bombs in Rupert's schoolbag exploded during the first class of the day, but he knew that Rupert would get the message, just the same.

At lunchtime, Rupert arrived, hopping uncontrollably on one foot, much to the delight of the other students.

Connor's personal favourite, though, was when one of Rupert's best friends sat across from him at the Slytherin table and asked, "Rupert, what's going on?"

Rupert's reply to that was, "I'm a girl!"

The laughter at the Gryffindor table didn't die down for ten minutes.

The next day at breakfast, Rupert's friends sat a bit further away from him than usual, clearly not wanting to be an unintended victim of whoever was tormenting their friend.

For the rest of the day, Rupert was beset by mysterious ailments as Connor and his friends (along with an enthusiastic Aiden) took every opportunity to sprinkle him with itching powder or jinx him with hiccups, jelly legs, and pink hair.

Connor was careful to be out of sight whenever Rupert began to show signs of being hexed or pranked. However, Rupert seemed to be in no doubt as to what was happening to him. Connor narrowly avoided one or two attempts by Rupert to pull pranks on him in the corridors or at meals, but all in all felt confident that Rupert was learning his lesson.

"Amateur," Aiden Weasley had said in mild disgust on the third day, upon discovering an unexploded dung bomb in the hood of Connor's cloak after Rupert had passed them. "It's almost not even fun anymore if that's the best he can do."

On the fourth day, Rachel got a delivery from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes containing a powder to turn any drink into a Bleaching Beverage. It was entirely scent-free, but tasted horrible. However, the tiniest amount on the tongue was enough for the prank to work. And so it was that on the fourth day of the Let's Teach Rupert A Lesson campaign, Rupert attended all of his classes as an albino.

Professor Lupin returned from his trip on the fifth day of hostilities, which happened to be a Saturday. Connor ran into him in the entrance hall just after breakfast, and stopped to speak with him.

"How was your trip?" Connor asked Lupin.

"Disappointing," Lupin answered. "But I didn't hold out much hope, anyway.'

"Where did you go?" Connor asked.

"Romania," Lupin said. "There was a professor there with some interesting theories about Lycanthropy. I went there to assist him in an experiment, but they proved to be flawed."

"You weren't hurt, were you?" Connor asked, alarmed.

"No, no. Nothing like that," Lupin assured him. "It was all perfectly safe. Nothing for you to worry about at all."

Connor was about to press for details about the experiment, when Professor Snape interrupted them.

"I see you've returned, Lupin," Snape said abruptly. "Was your trip fruitful?"

"I'm afraid not," Lupin said pleasantly.

"Pity," Snape said, though he didn't sound the least bit sorry. "Now that you've returned, maybe you can get the students in your house under control."

He looked directly at Connor when he said this, and Connor tried to keep his features bland. He looked over the Potion Master's shoulder, careful not to make eye contact.

"Has there been a problem?" Lupin asked with raised eyebrows. "The Headmistress didn't indicate that there had been any problems in my absence."

"One of my first years, Rupert Dursley," Snape said, still looking more at Connor than at Lupin, "has been beset by numerous hexes, jinxes and pranks of late."

"Oh?" Lupin asked, obviously feigning concern. "And you've proof that a Gryffindor is responsible?"

"A Gryffindor _is_ responsible," Snape said with a glare at Connor. "Or several, I should say."

"You've caught my students attacking one of your own?" Lupin asked, looking between Connor and Snape shrewdly.

"Not yet," Snape admitted sourly. "Though I know who the guilty parties are. I would suggest you have a word with your students and make them understand what fate awaits them should I actually find proof of their complicity in the attacks against my student."

"Of course, Severus," Lupin said agreeably. "I will be sure to make inquiries of my students, and remind them of the consequences of bullying others."

Severus growled, "See that you do," before glaring at Connor for a moment longer, then departing.

As soon as he was out of sight, Lupin simply raised an eyebrow in question at Connor.

"I think Rupert's just not very popular, Uncle Remus," Connor had said by way of explanation for the unspoken question.

"I'm sure that he's not," Lupin replied smoothly. "But I would hate to see any of my Gryffindors expelled from the Quidditch team, or even from classes, for bullying a student obviously unable to defend himself against malicious attacks. Not to mention the detentions those students would receive from both Professor Snape and myself should the culprits be brought to light."

Connor swallowed and nodded in understanding. Perhaps they had carried Rupert's punishment a bit far. Rupert had endangered Connor's place on the Quidditch team; but now it was Connor that was putting himself in danger by continuing to punish Rupert, and risking being caught.

He would have to tell the others tonight to leave Rupert alone for now.

"Now, I have heard, from a reliable source, that you had some trouble with your Occlumency while I was away.

"Whiney told you about the Ravenclaw match, huh?" Connor guessed astutely.

"Hmmm," Lupin answered vaguely. "Why don't you tell me about it while we walk to my office."

They began walking, and Connor understood that Whitney had probably asked Lupin not to tell Connor that she had interfered.

Connor explained about his inability to remain in the stadium, and his need to retreat to the quiet of the castle for a while.

"Well if you practiced Occlumency that morning, just a couple of hours before the match – that's bit troubling," Lupin said thoughtfully

"I'm worried about it, too," Connor admitted. "We've got a match a little over a week after Halloween, and I can't have a problem like that if I want to play."

"I'm afraid the best I can do is to meet with you just before the match and go through your Occlumency with you. Maybe practicing it right before you play will keep you strong enough to withstand the distractions," Lupin offered as they reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts office.

"I'll take what I can get," Connor said ruefully. "Otherwise, I'll have to resign my spot on the team."

Lupin stopped outside of his office door, and promised Connor that he would be available to through the Occlumency with him just before the game, so that his mind would be as clear as possible with the match began.

Connor didn't miss the fact that when Lupin opened his office door, Ms Grayson was waiting inside the office, and was smiling at the professor.

As Connor was heading back to his common room, a nagging little voice in the back of Connor's mind reminded him of Ivy's insistence that Lupin and Ms Grayson had been on a date during the last Hogsmeade visit.


	12. Chapter 12 What We Fear The Most

**Chapter 12 – What We Fear The Most**

Life's challenges are not supposed to paralyse you; they're supposed to help you discover who you are. -Bernice Johnson Reagon

Connor sat in the Gryffindor common room resting his chin on his hands and staring down at the essay he had just written for Defence Against the Dark Arts. The essay itself hadn't been a problem, but the rest of his assignment was nagging at him.

"What's wrong, Connor?" Rachel asked him from where she was reading one of the books they hoped would unlock some of the secrets of the Marauder's Map. "You've been staring at that parchment for fifteen minutes. Are you stuck?"

"Kind of," he said, looking up at her. "I'm done with my essay, but we're covering boggarts in Lupin's class, and we're going to be facing one on Wednesday."

"And?" Rachel asked, obviously not seeing the problem. "What's your problem with that?"

"I don't know what I'm most afraid of," he admitted. "And if I don't know what my biggest fear is, how am I supposed to fight it when it shows up?"

"Put it in underwear, whatever it is," Aiden suggested, obviously listening in from where he was sitting in a squashy armchair next to them. "That's what most of my year did when we had that class."

"He's probably right," Rachel said with a smile. "What can really seem threatening in a pair of knickers?"

"I suppose you're right," Connor said. "It would just be nice to know what to expect."

"Well you're not really afraid of all that much, are you?" Aiden asked curiously. "How hard could it be to pin it down?"

Connor merely shrugged.

"Well we'd better go get changed for practice, or your biggest fear is going to end up being Whitney Glendale, team captain extraordinaire," Aiden said, shoving himself out of his seat and heading for the stairs. "See you at dinner."

Practice went particularly well. Whitney was beside herself with happiness over the perfectly executed Porskoff Ploy that Connor, Quentin and Amanda managed to pull off. She was a little more sceptical about some of the other special moves that her Chasers had come up with. In the end, she told them that if they felt confident about pulling them off successfully, she would allow them to try them during the game.

Tuesday's practice went just as well, and the entire team was feeling confident about their rapidly approaching match against Ravenclaw.

"Okay everyone, don't forget that tomorrow is Halloween, so we're going to be practicing in the morning since none of us want to miss the feast," Whitney told them as practice came to a close. "We just barely beat Ravenclaw in booking the pitch, so we're going to make the best use of it we can. I expect you all to be on time and ready to play by six!"

Everyone groaned, but the fiery look in Whitney's eye seemed to quell any protests. Connor headed back to the castle thinking that he'd have to wake up at five to Occlude properly before practice.

Connor decided to go to bed early in anticipation of the early morning wake-up, but was perturbed to find that sleep eluded him. He couldn't stop worrying over tomorrow's Defence Against the Dark Arts class, and what the promised boggart would see in his head. It was well past midnight when he finally drifted off, still concerned about it.

Practice that morning was a blur, though Connor guessed that he played adequately. At least Whitney hadn't scolded him or threatened to send him to the reserves. He was so tired from only getting four and half hours of sleep that he could barely recall getting dressed after his Occlumency and following his team mates to the pitch.

Breakfast was strangely tense for the third years. Gryffindor and Slytherin had Defence Against the Dark Arts first thing, and Connor noticed that he was not the only one who seemed jittery at the prospect of seeing their worst fear in the flesh. The others seemed both excited and scared, so Connor relaxed a little. He wasn't the only one.

"Post's here," Quentin said, hiding a yawn behind his hand. Apparently Connor wasn't the only one who hadn't slept well.

A large barn owl swooped down to Connor and landed neatly on his shoulder, immediately extending one leg that had a letter tied to it.

"Good morning, Moonface," Connor said. The bird was one of his father's.

He untied the letter and offered the owl some bacon before sending it on its way, only to have three more owls drop letters in front of him in quick succession.

"More fan mail?" Rachel asked, reaching over to snatch one of the letters up.

"Probably," Connor said, failing to hold back a wide yawn as he opened the letter from home.

He didn't care if Rachel or any of the others opened strange mail for him anymore. Ever since it had been made public the year before that Connor was clairvoyant, he'd been receiving letters from witches and wizards all over Europe. They usually asked for his help or advice on all sorts of matters, ranging from gambling prospects to wanting to know if it would rain on someone's wedding day.

"Junk," Rachel declared after scanning the letter she had taken. She discarded it and picked up the other two. "Junk," she declared again after reading the second, "and this one is from Mr. Barker."

"Clive?" Connor asked with surprise. "Cool."

He took the letter from Rachel, unopened, and looked forward to reading it later. Clive was currently tutoring a young girl in India, and his recent letters had been full of interesting facts and sometimes even photos. Connor pocketed that letter and opened the one from home. He was pleased to see that he'd gotten a letter from each of his family members.

He didn't have time to read five letters before he had to go to class, but he thought that reading the shortest one (Adam's) might help distract him from the fact that Defence class was only fifteen minutes away.

_Deer Connor,_

_Happy Haloween. How ar you doing at Hogworts? I am fine. Lucy and Ian are in big truble. They made Mum's caldron melt with a joke from Uncle Fred and Gorge's shop.._

_Snowbal, Sweetie and Pit-Pat ar all gud. Here is a pichr I made._

_Luv, _

Adam 

The picture Adam had drawn was clever; done with paint, showing Adam with a brown blob in each hand that Connor assumed represented Sweetie and Pit-pat. Adam loved his pet puffskeins with a fervency that bordered on obsession. On the green-painted grass beside Adam was a large white blob that could only be Snowball.

_I really hope that Adam is exaggerating that thing's size,_ Connor thought to himself as he noted that Adam's depiction of Snowball had the mutant puffskein large enough to reach above Adam's hips.

"We should go now," Ivy said, breaking into Connor's thoughts. "We don't want to be late."

Connor grabbed the two letters that Rachel had declared junk and shoved them in his bag for disposal later. He put the letters from his family in his pocket, and left the Great Hall feeling like he was forgetting something.

When Connor mentioned this to Zack, the other boy said, teasingly, "You didn't stuff your pockets with food!"

"That was it!" Connor said with a laugh. "I was so busy with my post that I forgot."

He jogged back into the Great Hall and grabbed an apple out of a basket on the Hufflepuff table before catching up with his friends.

"You act like you're going to starve between now and lunchtime," Quentin said with a roll of his eyes.

"I might," Connor said jokingly, following his friends up the main staircase. "I'm a growing boy!"

Connor joined the unusually quiet queue of students outside of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and began to worry his lower lip with his teeth. He still had no idea what he was about to face, and he wondered if he could put off facing the boggart until the next time the class met. Surely there were too many students in the class for them all to have to face the boggart today?

Just as Connor had entertained that cheerful thought, Professor Lupin opened the classroom door from within, and beckoned them all to enter. Connor noticed Lupin's lips twitched as he watched them file silently past him to find their seats. Connor suspected the professor was enjoying their discomfort.

Connor brightened a bit when he noticed that Ms Grayson was sitting on a large trunk that was situated directly in front of Lupin's desk. She was wearing dark purple robes had a cheerful smile on her face, and paid no attention to the fact that the trunk she was perched on shook violently every once in a while.

Connor saw that he was not the only one to have noticed the trunk's behaviour. The students were staring at it apprehensively – some looking distinctly green.

"Welcome!" Professor Lupin enthused as he shut the door. "If you would all please take out the essays I assigned you last time and pass them forward?"

There was shuffle as everyone complied, and Lupin collected the parchment from the students seated in the front row. He set the parchments on his desk, and ignored a rather forceful shudder from the trunk beneath Ms Grayson.

"We discussed boggarts during our last class together, and you've done your essays," Lupin told them unnecessarily. "I propose that we get straight to the practical side of our lesson. You all were instructed to think of what you thought might be your greatest fear, and also to think of ways to diminish that fear by changing it into something comical."

The class shifted in their seats. Connor wondered how they were going to proceed. It was very plain that the boggart they were to face was in the trunk off of which Ms Grayson had just hopped.

"If you would all get a mental picture of your fear and its antidote, so to speak, I'll ask you to stand so that the room can be cleared to give us the space we'll need."

Everyone scrambled to their feet. Ms Grayson waved her wand and made the desks slide noiselessly to the edges of the room, leaving a large open space in the centre of the room.

"I would like everyone please to stand in a semi-circle around the back of the room," Lupin said firmly. Everyone instantly obeyed. "Good! Now I will give as many of you a chance today as possible. I'll call you forward to take your turn, so please have your wand at the ready and remember the proper incantation. _Riddikulus_!"

Connor looked around at the other students. Many of them had their fists clenched or their eyes scrunched tightly closed as they muttered to themselves. Ivy stood in between himself and Zack, and Quentin was on his other side.

Ms Grayson used her wand to levitate the trunk forward a couple of metres, positioning it in front of the semi-circle.

"Remember to give each person facing the boggart plenty of room," Lupin called to the group. "Is there anyone who would like to volunteer to go first? Get it over with quickly?"

A hand on the other side of the room shot into the air instantly, to Connor's surprise. He was grateful to the Slytherin girl who looked as though she were already regretting her rash decision.

"Excellent, Andrea," Professor Lupin beamed, even though the girl was visibly shaking. "Ten points to Slytherin! Step forward. Do you remember the incantation?"

Andrea nodded as though she might be sick if she tried to open her mouth just then. She stepped forward until she was about three metres from the trunk. Everyone else in the room was utterly silent.

"Ready?" Ms Grayson asked in a kind voice as she unlatched the fastenings on the trunk. "Remember that we're here to intervene if you run into trouble."

Andrea swallowed hard and took a deep breath before she nodded.

Ms. Grayson stepped away from the trunk and used her wand to lift the lid.

There was a shadow that seemed to rise from trunk, and spill forward over the edge before it began to take shape. The shadow seemed to solidify and grow into the tall figure of a man, with vacant eyes, deathly pale skin, and sharp, pointed fangs covered in blood. Andrea's worst fear was apparently vampires.

Andrea whimpered at the sight of the vampire and hesitated for a moment, causing the boggart/vampire to press its advantage and begin to approach her.

"R-_Riddikulus_!" Andrea said in a frightened, high-pitched voice. She pointed her wand at it, and the vampire stopped in its tracks. Its teeth had fallen out.

Everyone laughed, and Connor suspected that most of the chuckles were more from relief than anything else.

"Good," Lupin cried over their noise. "Zack! Forward!"

Zack stumbled forward looking nervous, and took Andrea's place. The toothless vampire glared at him, and with a loud _crack_, suddenly changed into a large circus clown in loud colors, looking oddly malevolent and holding a large bucket of ominously smoking liquid.

Many of the students laughed that Zack's fear would be something that most of them already found funny, but Connor was worried. If his friend didn't find clowns funny, what could he possibly do to make one appear humorous?

"_Riddikulus_!" Zack said firmly, his knuckles white from gripping his wand so tightly.

The bucket of liquid that the clown had been holding flew from its grip and emptied itself over the clown's head with a splash. The clown then melted into nothingness, leaving only a pile of empty, colourful clothing.

Zack heaved a huge sigh and smiled crookedly back at Connor and his friends.

"Nicely done!" Lupin congratulated. "Michael! Forward!"

Michael Stewart from Slytherin hurried forward with a look of intense concentration on his face. The sodden pile of clown costuming on the floor gathered itself together and, with another _crack_, morphed into a huge shape that eventually took the form of a big green dragon.

Several people screamed and scrambled backward as the dragon took a deep breath as though to breath fire, but Michael was faster.

"_Riddikulus_!"

The dragon rapidly shrunk in size and de-aged before their eyes until there was suddenly nothing but a large green-flecked, brown egg on the floor in front of them.

Connor soon caught on to the fact the Lupin was alternating houses as he called them forward.

_Crack!_ A giant grew roots and turned into a tree.

_Crack!_ A swarm of angry bees were swept up into a huge net.

"Wonderful!" Lupin praised as Daniel White retreated back into the semi-circle. "Ivy, you're next!"

Ivy paused for a moment, and was shaking as she approached the net full of buzzing bees on the floor. With the sharp crack that warned them all that the boggart had decided which shape to take, Ivy stood facing…. A cloak?

Connor stared, puzzled, at the black shape on the floor that looked for all the world like a discarded cloak.

"It's a lethifold!" Quentin whispered beside him. When Connor still looked puzzled, even as the cloak rose a few inches from the floor and began to creep toward Ivy, Quentin hissed, "It eats people!"

"Oh Merlin!" Ivy moaned under her breath. It looked as though she had frozen up, but just as Professor Lupin stepped forward, she cried, "_Riddikulus_!"

The lethifold changed into a prettily patterned flying carpet in the Gryffindor colours.

Ivy let out a breath and scrambled back to her place beside Connor.

"Darcy!" Lupin called a Slytherin girl forward.

_Crack!_ The flying carpet turned into a huge, hairy spider.

Several students shouted in alarm, as they had with the dragon. Connor felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up in response to the monstrous arachnid. He thought of how terrified Rachel would be if she could be here now- her greatest fear was spiders.

"_Riddikulus_!" the spider suddenly seemed to be made out of glass, and was transparent and frozen as Darcy scrambled back into her place.

"Connor!" Lupin called out. "You're up!"

Connor's heart gave a huge thump in his chest that he was surprised no one else seemed to hear. He could swear that it stopped beating for a full five seconds before it took off at a gallop. He stepped forward, aware that sweat had instantly appeared on his brow, and held his wand out, not sure what was going to happen next.

_Crack!_

There was complete silence before several people began to laugh.

A huge white ball of fur, roughly the size of a baby elephant, was sitting on the floor in front of a confused Connor. He eyed the puffball warily, recognising it as an insanely large mutant puffskein.

_My biggest fear is Snowball?_ Connor asked himself, feeling bewildered.

The entire class sounded as though they were having a huge laugh at his expense, but Connor refused to take his eyes from the thing before him. There had to be more to it that what he was currently seeing.

Almost as soon as that thought passed through his mind, the giant version of Snowball began to growl viciously.

The room fell silent.

Connor took a step backward, trying to think of something that would make any of this seem funny enough to banish the boggart. He raised his wand, thinking vaguely of turning it back to normal puffskein size, and maybe changing its colour to pink. That's when Snowball made a slight choking sound and a shoe came shooting out of an unseen mouth, covered in blood. _Adam's_ shoe.

The effect was instantaneous.

"What did you do to Adam?" Connor shouted at the puffskein. "What did you do to my brother?"

"Connor!"

Connor vaguely heard Lupin's voice over the fear and rage pumping through him and the blood roaring in his ears.

"Connor, it's only a boggart! It's not real!"

Connor couldn't wrap his mind around that one simple fact, though. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Adam's shoe. Everything inside of him wanted to scream out a denial and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back for much longer. He was just on the verge of launching himself at Snowball, when Professor Lupin came forward and shoved Connor backward, hard.

Connor stumbled and fell, looking up to see Snowball and Adam's shoe disappear with a loud _crack_, to be replaced by a miniature version of a full moon, hanging in the air.

Connor's breath was coming in pants, and he knew that everyone was staring at him as he sat sprawled on the floor where Lupin had shoved him. He could feel the heat in his face that heralded his embarrassment instead of the panic he'd been experiencing a few moments before.

He watched as Lupin forced the moon-shaped boggart back into its trunk, and Ms Grayson stepped forward to close the lid and latch it.

"Connor," Ivy said from beside him. She was kneeling beside him, with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Connor nodded miserably. How long would it take for _this_ story to spread around the school? "I feel stupid," he admitted quietly.

At that moment, Professor Lupin strode over and helped him to his feet, dusting him off briskly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"All right?" Lupin asked.

"All right," Connor agreed, trying not to look anyone in the face.

"Everyone stand out of the way so that we can return the desks to the proper places!" Lupin called out to everyone. "Then take a seat!"

Connor dropped into his chair glumly and looked at the clock. Not as much time had passed as he had expected, and they still had about five minutes until it they were dismissed.

"Who can tell me where Connor went wrong?" Professor Lupin asked the class.

Connor sighed and raised his hand.

"Connor, why don't you tell the others what your mistake was?" Lupin said kindly.

"I forgot that I was dealing with a boggart. I panicked when I thought that my brother had been killed," Connor said.

"By a giant puffskein?" one of the Slytherin boys said with a snort of amusement. His friends snickered.

Connor turned red again and sank lower in his seat.

"Ten points from Slytherin, Mr Thorne," Lupin said mildly. "Perhaps you can earn them back when it's your turn to face the boggart on Friday."

Bruce Thorne quieted down considerably. Connor viciously hoped that the Slytherin prat was afraid of something like garden gnomes or fairies.

"Connor is correct," Professor Lupin continued. "Boggarts don't always act on a rational fear, and one mustn't forget how to deal with a boggart. If Connor had acted on impulse and actually attacked the object of his fear, as he looked prepared to do, he would have been in very real danger."

The bell that signalled the end of classes rang, so the students left the class talking animatedly about the lesson. Connor followed his friends out, relieved to hear that not _everyone_ was talking about the giant puffskein. Still, many were, which made Connor cringe at the thought of being the butt of a lot of jokes an the coming days.

"It's the letter I got this morning," Connor realized suddenly, pulling it from his pocket to look at the picture Adam had sent him. "That's why my boggart turned out to be what it did."

Ivy took the letter from him and held it while Zack and Quentin looked over her shoulder.

"That would explain it," Quentin agreed. "I'm not looking forward to Friday."

"That's right," Zack said, "you didn't face the boggart yet."

"So what's your biggest fear?" Ivy asked.

"I'm not sure," Quentin admitted. "My dad in prison? I know it was before I was born, but… the idea still scares me."

"I can understand that," Connor said. "So instead of prison robes, you can put him in a frilly dress."

Quentin snorted.

Ivy handed Adam's letter back to Connor. "We'll see you guys at lunch," she said, then Quentin and Ivy departed for their Arithmancy lesson.

Connor and Zack paused at the door leading outside to don their cloaks before they headed out into the cold for double Care of Magical Creatures class.

"So," Connor said to Zack as they trudged through the snow. "What's with being afraid of clowns? Did you have a bad experience with one?"

"You could say that," Zack said with a scowl. "When I was four, my parents took me to the circus. There was this pair of clowns that were running around, grabbing these pails full of confetti and glitter, and they were throwing them at the audience, pretending like it was water."

Connor was trying to picture it in his head, but was having a bit of trouble. Obviously Muggle circuses were a bit different from wizarding ones. It was only logical, he supposed, that Muggles would be easier to entertain than wizards, if something as simple as the illusion of having water thrown at you was amusing.

"And you were scared they would throw some on you?' Connor asked, trying to get a metal image.

"No!" Zack said. "I wanted them to! I was in the front row, and I was standing up and waving and yelling out, 'Over here! Over here!' When one of them came my way, I was thrilled. He picked up a pail that was by the stands, and threw the contents on me."

"Let me guess," Connor said shrewdly. "No confetti and glitter?"

"Got it in one," Zack said as the heated enclosure for the class came into view. "It was full of some sort of concentrated detergent that one of the maintenance people hadn't put away before the start of the show."

"What happened?" Connor asked, horrified.

"It burned me," Zack answered with a shiver. "Badly. I had chemical burns all over my face, and they had to rush me to hospital. I was there for weeks. My dad reckons that that was the first time I used my magic, though we didn't know it at the time."

"How do you reckon?" Connor asked curiously.

"Well, I should have needed all sorts of surgeries, and I should have been blinded," Zack said with a shrug. "Maybe I should have even died."

Connor wasn't sure what surgeries were, but didn't want to interrupt to ask. He had a stomach-turning image of his friend as a little boy, with burns all over him, and he tried to shake it off. Being Muggles, Zack's parents wouldn't have known about St. Mungo's or healers or potions.

"But I didn't," Zack finished. "I was able to go home after just three weeks, with no scarring at all to speak of. The doctors called it a miracle at the time, and it wasn't until we found out that I was magical that my parents made the connection."

"Wow!" Connor was impressed; it wasn't any wonder Zack wasn't too keen on clowns.

"Let's hurry," Zack urged. "I'm freezing!"

They picked up their pace and were just about to enter the enclosure, when Professor Grubbly-Plank suddenly said loudly and firmly, "Nobody move!"

Connor froze in his tracks, and saw that everyone else in the vicinity had done the same. The only sound was the faint chilly wind for a moment, and then Connor heard it. Footsteps – they sounded in human- too many feet.

Connor's first thought was that a centaur was wandering at the edge of the woods, but that was hardly a cause for concern. Centaurs, while not particularly social around humans, weren't really a threat when unprovoked.

Letting his eyes roam the edge of the forest line, he spotted it at the same time as several others. A unicorn. A massive unicorn was coming out of the trees, glowing and silvery as it stepped into the weak sunlight. Connor heard a chorus of, "Oooh!" as several of the girls around the enclosure made sounds of ecstasy at the sight of it, but no one moved for fear of frightening it away.

Connor watched its progress through the snow with amazement. He had never seen a unicorn this closely before, and was dumbfounded to see that the perfectly white snow around it seemed dirty in comparison with its shining hide.

The gorgeous animal ambled, apparently unconcernedly, toward the opening of the enclosure, next to which Connor and Zack were standing.

"Should I move out of its way?" Connor wondered quietly, not taking his eyes off of the unicorn that was only a few metres away.

"Just remain still, Mr Potter," Grubbly-Plank advised quietly. "It's not showing any sign of agitation. Just let him go about his business. He'll probably avoid you, since they normally won't approach males."

Connor nodded, and kept wary eyes on the Unicorn. Was the reason that they didn't approach males because they didn't like them? What if it decided to charge him? Not that he looked like he was going to.

Connor's breath was coming out in plumes of steam on the air, betraying the fact that his breathing had picked up along with his anxiety. The unicorn was right in front of him, now, and Connor could have sworn he heard Zack whimper a bit beside him, and then back slowly away. He wondered if he should do the same, but the professor seemed to know what he was thinking.

"Stay still, Potter," she urged quietly.

Connor thought it was distinctly unfair that Zack, who had been only a couple of feet away from him, had gotten to retreat, out of harm's way. Connor's eyes widened as the unicorn stopped and bent its head to sniff at his hair. From this vantage point, he could see that the unicorn's fur was actually somewhat longer than he would have expected, as if its winter coat was coming in. The warmth of the animal's breath fanned out over him and gave him gooseflesh, but Connor didn't feel so afraid anymore.

Lowering its head even further, the unicorn nudged at Connor's shoulder, and Connor slowly raised his hand to stroke its nose. The Unicorn shivered a bit at the first contact of Connor's hand, then stilled and allowed itself to be petted. A moment later it nudged Connor again, and then huffed out air through its nose and mouth, nickering softly.

Connor had the distinct feeling the unicorn wanted something from him. He almost burst into laughter with the unicorn dipped its silvery head (narrowly missing Connor's arm with its horn) and began sniffing at his pocket.

Connor slowly put his hand in his pocket and brought out the apple he had hidden in there earlier.

"Is this what you're after?"

He held it in his palm, keeping his hand flat, and offered it up to the unicorn, which took it delicately in its teeth and made short work of the fruit.

Connor smiled when it sniffed at him again, and butted its head against his shoulder as if asking for more.

"Sorry, that's all I've got," Connor told the unicorn, stroking its nose again.

The unicorn nudged its nose against Connor's face in an unmistakable gesture of affection, and then stood and looked around at the other students standing about.

"Oh!" a girl nearby said excitedly. "I've got one!"

She produced an apple from her bag, and held it out, inviting the unicorn to enjoy another treat. The unicorn regarded her for a moment, and then blew warm air on Connor's face, nudged him with its nose, then turned, almost knocking Connor off of his feet as its withers scraped along his cloak. He cantered back into the trees the way it had come, ignoring the other apple.

"What was that all about?" Zack asked, as they stepped into the warm air of the enclosure and left the snow behind.

"I have no idea," Connor said with an astonished laugh. He'd just petted a unicorn!

"That was remarkable," Professor Grubbly-Plank stated as she approached Connor. "I've never seen a unicorn behave so oddly! You seem to have a knack for dealing with magical creatures, Potter."

"I think it's more of a knack for attracting them with food," Connor said dryly, eliciting a chuckle from a few people. This was the same enclosure that the clabberts had been held in.

"I doubt it," the professor said mysteriously, but didn't elaborate. "You've got a nice collection of unicorn hair on your cloak. You should remove it and make sure that it's folded inside out. After class, you're to take it to Professor Snape so that he can collect them. They tend to be valuable Potions ingredients."

Connor did not relish the thought of returning to the castle without his cloak, but dutifully removed it and carefully folded it up as Grubbly-Plank instructed. She wrote something down on a piece of parchment and handed it to Connor.

"These are the observations I made about the unicorn. He'll need them to know how best to utilize the hairs."

"Yes, ma'am," Connor agreed, and put the note, and his cloak, in his bag.

"All right class," the professor said to gain everyone's attention, "now that the excitement is over, let's continue with our lesson."

Everyone gathered around, and Professor Grubbly-Plank waved her wand at some crates stacked at the back of the enclosure, "_Finite_!"

At once, the air filled with the growling and barking of a dozen crups. Another flick of the professor's wand opened the crates, and allowed the dogs to come trotting out.

"Oh! They're so cute!" Sharon Whitaker exclaimed as the canines began exploring and sniffing everything in sight.

When a crup lifted its leg over his schoolbag, Walter Tipton complained. "Hey! Stop that!"

Everyone else picked up their bags, just in case.

As they watched the crups frolic and roam about, Grubbly-Plank lectured them about the crup and what made it a magical beast "The crup is very similar to a dog that the Muggles call a Jack Russell Terrier," she said in her best professorial tones, while one of the subject of her lecture tugged on her cloak with doggie teeth. "They are born with a forked tail, however, that is usually removed with a painless severing charm while still in the early puppy stage. They tend to be extremely loyal to the wizard who owns them, and particularly vicious to anyone they see as a threat. They have also been known to be extremely aggressive toward Muggles."

The lecture continued for another ten minutes, and then the students were allowed to interact with the crups and were told to make sketches and notes to go with their observations.

Connor got down on one knee when one of the crups approached him, and held out a hand toward it.

It was a huge surprise when the crup suddenly and inexplicably lunged for Connor's hand and bit into it while shaking its head furiously.

Zack, thinking fast, grabbed the crup around the middle, and wrenched it away from Connor as it growled and barked menacingly.

"What on earth happened?" Grubbly-Plank demanded, taking the crup out of Zack's arms and shoving it unceremoniously into a crate.

"I don't know," Connor said, gritting his teeth against the pain, and cradling his bleeding hand against his chest. "I was just reaching down to pat it, and it attacked me!"

"You need the hospital wing, young man. Can you manage to get there by yourself?" Grubbly-Plank said after seeing the blood.

"Yes," Connor hissed.

He left the enclosure and ignored the cold as he jogged back up to the castle.

He was nearly up the stairs, when he ran into Professor Lyra, who looked surprised to see him.

"Connor! Have you been outside? Where's your cloak?" she asked.

"In my bag," Connor said breathlessly. "I'm on my way to the hospital wing."

"Here," she said brusquely when she saw his hand, "let me take you bag for you."

He gratefully let her slip it off of his arm, where it had fallen down from his shoulder, and followed her to Madam Cosgrove's office.

"Mr Potter! If' you've torn up your own hand again, I'm sending you straight to St. Mungo's for eval…" Madam Cosgrove began when she saw the blood on his hands.

"I didn't do it!" Connor interrupted, noting that Professor Snape was sitting across from Madam Cosgrove's desk. "I got bit by a Crup in Care of Magical Creatures class.

Snape snorted in what could only be amusement.

"Severus!" Lyra chided him. "Be nice."

"Why?" Snape asked in a baffled tone, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Don't pay any attention to him," Professor Lyra told Connor with a roll of her eyes.

"Your hands are freezing!" Madam Cosgrove exclaimed when she went to examine Connor.

"It's cold outside," he said dryly.

"He wasn't wearing his cloak, Grace," Lyra supplied.

"Why ever not?" Madam Cosgrove demanded, looking to Connor for an answer.

"Because of the unicorn," Connor said.

"I think he's delirious," Snape said, standing to peer at Connor.

"No," Connor almost laughed. "A Unicorn came out of the forest as I was going to Care of Magical Creatures. Its hair got on me, and Professor Grubbly-Plank said I should bring my cloak to Professor Snape so he could gather the hairs."

When everyone looked at him strangely, he launched into the story of the unicorn befriending him. When no one spoke, he said, "The cloak's in my bag."

Without preamble, Professor Snape took Connor's bag from Professor Lyra and extracted Connor's cloak. Apparently he was satisfied with the way that Connor had folded it, because he didn't comment.

While Connor was watching Snape handle his cloak, he had not been paying attention to what Madam Cosgrove had been doing to fix his hand.

"Was the specimen male or female?" Snape asked Connor.

"Er, male, I think," Connor said. "Professor Grubbly-Plank called it a him. I wasn't exactly looking at anything but it's head."

"How big?" Snape asked, scribbling on a parchment.

"Huge," Connor said. "I couldn't have reached the top of his head without jumping."

Snape simply gave Connor a withering look.

"Professor Grubbly-plank wrote you a note about it," Connor said. "It's in by bag, too."

"Why didn't you say so?" Snape asked testily, rummaging again in Connor's bag.

Connor was distracted by a sudden burning and stinging in his right hand, and shouted, "Damn!" before he could stop himself.

"Language," Professor Lyra scolded, but didn't take points.

It was a testament to Snape's interest in the unicorn that he didn't even seem to notice Connor's slip-up. He read the details Professor Grubbly-Plank had provided, and then took Connor's cloak over to a patient bed and carefully unfolded it.

"Just cleaning out the wound, dear," the matron said cheerfully, watching as it crackled and spat like hot grease.

Connor watched as Professor Snape took a pair of tweezers and a magnifying glass, and began to carefully divest his cloak of the slightly luminescent hairs.

"That's done, dear," Madam Cosgrove told him as she used a _scouring charm_ on his robes to remove the blood. "You should run along to lunch now. The bell's going to ring in just a couple of minutes."

"Thank you," Connor said, examining his newly healed hand. He collected his bag from Professor Lyra, then walked toward the door, then stopped near the bed where Snape was inspecting Connor's cloak.

"Should I pick my cloak up after lunch?" Connor asked quietly.

"I'll have it delivered back to you when I am finished with it," Snape said absently, not looking up from his magnifying glass. "Five points from Gryffindor for swearing at the matron."

Connor risked rolling his eyes.

"I'll see you later in class, Connor," Professor Lyra said kindly. "I'll bring your cloak then, if he's finished with it."

Professor Lyra did, indeed, return Connor's cloak to him before Divination. She also pulled him aside and told him something interesting.

"I spoke with Severus after you went to lunch," she said with a smile. "It seems that the hairs he harvested from your cloak are extremely valuable to him. More valuable than you might think."

"What makes them so special?" Connor asked. The part of him that loved making potions was interested.

"Apparently that fact that they were shed on Halloween, and the fact that certain planets are in alignment goes a long way toward making the hairs especially potent in certain complex potions." Professor Lyra told him. "Having you suddenly turn up with a large number of them on your cloak was, for Severus, like having Father Christmas come early."

"Do you think…?" Connor began to ask, then paused.

"Do I think?" Professor Lyra prompted.

"No, never mind, he would never allow it," Connor said, shaking his head and turning to take a seat.

"Allow what?" she asked, sounding curious.

"I was just wondering if Professor Snape might let me watch him brew one of the potions with the hairs sometime. I like Potions," Connor said.

"I don't know," Professor Lyra said. "But you'll never know, either, unless you ask him."

Connor nodded, thinking that asking Snape a question like that was about as likely as Snape asking if he could hang out with Connor and his friends some time. Not likely

The Halloween feast was a lot of fun. The Great Hall was decorated with its customary floating jack-o-lanterns and swarms of live bats, and there were sweets and treats of all kinds in abundance.

Many of the students had brought small bags with them to save some of these sweets for later, and Connor took advantage of that fact. He got Zack and Quentin to help him plant Flatulent Fancies in the dishes of Fizzing Whizbees that were set out on the other house tables, and even dared to levitate one into a dish of them set near Professor Snape's plate at the staff table. Connor knew that Snape wasn't very likely to indulge in any sweets, but the dish was also near Professor Lupin, who was notoriously hard to prank, and who loved sweets.

It was nearing ten o'clock when everyone began to trek back to their Common Rooms, and Connor groaned when he realised that he still had Astronomy tonight before he could rest.

Perhaps it was because he was so tired, but Connor never saw the jinx that suddenly hit his legs and turned them to jelly. He wobbled in place for a few moments before falling to his knees, then looked around at the throng of students in the entrance hall for the culprit.

"It was that Dursley kid."

Connor looked up from his place on the ground to see Cicely Green, a second year Ravenclaw girl, looking down at him.

"The one who used to say he was your cousin," Cicely said,

Zack countered the jinx and helped Connor to his feet. "Rupert?"

"That's the one," Cicely nodded. "He's not really your cousin, is he?"

"He's something like a second cousin once removed, or something," Connor said. "Thanks for letting me know it was him."

"You're going to get him back, right?" Cicely asked with a smile.

"You don't need to worry about that," Connor said. "I'm planning on having a nice little chat with him real soon."

"See you, then," she said with a wicked smile, and departed.

"Let's go find Rupert," Connor said to is his friends, and took the main steps two at a time.

Connor raced up to his room and, panting, rummaged in his trunk until he found the Marauder's Map. He looked around to make sure Andrew wasn't around then activated the map, while the others stood around trying to catch their breaths.

"He's on the third floor," Rachel pointed out. "He's right next to the statue of the one-eyed witch."

"What's he doing there?" Quentin asked. "You don't think he knows about the passageway, do you?"

"He might," Ivy said logically. "He was in the corridor when Lupin caught us about to sneak Rachel into Hogsmeade."

"I think I should go have a little talk with my _cousin_," Connor decided, wiping the map clean.

"You're not going without me!" Rachel said at once.

The others nodded.

"Fine," Connor said. But we're getting close to curfew, so let's make it quick."

They hurried back down to the third floor with the aid of a couple of secret passageways and found Rupert tapping at the statue with his wand. Apparently he at least suspected a passageway was hidden in it, and was trying all sorts of different charms to get it to open.

The five friends all stopped at the end of the deserted corridor to spy on him. They saw that he kept looking at a large piece of paper in his hand. He alternated between checking his paper and tapping the statue.

"What are you doing, Rupert?" Connor asked, stepping into view.

Rupert jumped like a scalded cat and hurriedly jammed the paper into his robes.

Connor imagined that he and his friends were an impressive sight to Rupert, because he looked extremely nervous as they approached, wands out.

"Nothing!" Rupert yelped before he could stop himself from sounding so frightened. He took a deep breath and said again, "Nothing."

"I'm sure," Rachel said, circling around him to block any retreat the other boy might try to make. Quentin and Ivy followed suit, so that they were surrounding him in a loose circle. "Then you won't mind if we have a look at this!"

More quickly than Rupert could block, Rachel had reached into his pocket and snatched out the paper he had been consulting earlier.

"It's a photo," Rachel told the others as she examined it. "Of a map."

She handed the photo over to Connor, who looked at it and then glared at Rupert. "I knew you'd done something in the library that day. Little sneak." Connor tore the photo into several pieces and shoved them in his pocket. "I'll bet that how you knew where to look for the kitchens when we were caught."

"So?" Rupert spat. "You left the thing lying out."

"That we did," Connor agreed. "Too bad for you that a picture of the map won't do you any good. It still won't give you the passwords to use it properly, or do anything else the real map can do."

"So tell me the password to get into the tunnel to Hogsmeade," Rupert demanded.

Connor and his friends all laughed.

"What's so funny?" Rupert asked. "If you don't tell me the passwords I want, I'll tell Snape or Lupin that you have a map like that. I'm sure it isn't allowed!"

"Do you think they don't know about it?" Connor scoffed, bluffing a bit by omission. Lupin did know about the map, though Snape had no idea. "Even if they wanted to take it away, they'd have to find it first."

"But I have a picture of the map as proof!" Rupert said, obviously thinking that he was being very clever.

"And you're going to prove it's ours, how?" Ivy asked conversationally. "Besides the fact the we can turn it invisible, why would they take your word over ours?"

"Give me the password!" Rupert said again, more aggressively.

"Oh, all right," Zack said after a moment. "You're too fat to use it, anyway."

The others looked at him incredulously, but Rupert had a hungry and triumphant expression on his face.

But Zack didn't tap the hump on the witch's back and say, "_dissendium_!" Instead he muttered the charm that they had used on him twice before and hit Rupert with it before the Slytherin boy could realise what was happening.

Connor watched the beam of light hit Rupert square in the chest, then Connor immediately stated, "I want my mummy!"

"What are you…. oh no," Rupert said, comprehension evidently finally dawning on him.

"That should teach you to mind your own business," Zack said with a sneer.

"And if you ever jinx any of us again," Quentin warned with a smile, "we'll have you declaring your undying love for Professor Snape."

"You un-jinx me right now!" Rupert demanded furiously, turning an impressive shade of scarlet.

"Good night," Connor smiled evilly as they all turned to go, "Rupert."

"I want my mummy!" Rupert said, and then swore ripely.

"So you kiss your mummy with that mouth?" Zack asked in mock disbelief. "Shame on you."

They were all chuckling as they turned the corner, out of sight.

They stopped to peak back around the way they had come, and Connor's eyes widened when he was Professor Lupin and Ms Grayson come around the far corner and spot Rupert in the corridor, very near to curfew.

"What are you doing up here?" Professor Lupin asked him. "Why aren't you in your common room? It's three minutes to curfew." Rupert stood there fuming for a moment, and Lupin prompted him by saying, "Rupert? Are you all right?"

"I want my mummy!" Rupert declared involuntarily.

Connor pulled his head back so he wouldn't be seen, and stuffed his fist in his mouth to keep from roaring with laughter.

"Oh! You poor thing!" Ms Grayson's voice could be heard, dripping with sympathy.

Connor looked at his friends, who were obviously having trouble containing their mirth. He signalled for them all to retreat, and they hurried back up to Gryffindor Tower, getting lightly scolded by the Fat Lady as the scrambled through the portrait hole a couple of minutes after curfew.

They burst into laughter once they were safely in their common room, and didn't settle down until it was almost time for them to go to astronomy.

_To be continued in Chapter 13- Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw_

**A/N - Wow! That was a LONG chapter, huh? I hopep you liked it enough to review!I answer ALL comments on my Live Journal - you can find a link to in on my author bio, or look me up at Live Journal dot com under my author name.**


	13. Chapter 13 Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw

Chapter 13 – Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw

_No one ever achieved greatness by playing it safe. -Harry Gray_

Word quickly got around the school that Connor and his friends had been the ones to jinx Rupert Dursley into saying "I want my mummy!" every time anyone uttered his name. Connor found himself having to constantly tell people that he didn't know how to do the charm, and that, no, he couldn't teach it to them.

The word around school was also that Rupert had gone to Snape to complain about said jinx, and had been told that if he was foolish enough to let a few Gryffindors jinx him right out in an open corridor, he deserved what he got. Connor suspected the only thing that had saved him from Snape's wrath was the unicorn hair he had gotten from Connor's cloak two days before.

On Friday, Connor found himself concentrating more on his notes about the Quidditch plays that he, Quentin and Amanda were going to try during the game tomorrow than on his Divination lesson. It wasn't until he reached Defence Against the Dark Arts that he remembered that some of the students had not yet faced the boggart.

"We have a different boggart today," Professor Lupin told them all as they settled into their seats. "The one we used before was, unfortunately, destroyed during a class yesterday."

Connor looked over at Quentin to see that he looked nervous, but not panic-stricken. Connor was surprised, actually, that he hadn't been overly teased about his boggart experience, but was not going to complain about it. Perhaps anyone in the mood to tease him was afraid of being forced to say, "I want my mummy!" as Rupert had.

The same trunk was sitting at the front of the room as before, and Ms Grayson and Professor Lupin stood calmly, ignoring it.

"Today we're going to finish our practical lesson with this new boggart," Lupin said cheerfully. "Those of you who have not yet had a chance to face it will do so today. I hope all of you are prepared."

"Would everyone please stand?" Ms Grayson asked the class. "I'm going to arrange the desks just like last time. I would like those of you who have already faced the boggart to stand to the left of the room, and those who have yet to tackle it to position yourselves on the left."

There was a scramble of students and desks shifting around; soon the trunk had been levitated into place and Professor Lupin was asking for a volunteer to begin. A Gryffindor girl raised her hand and stepped forward timidly.

"Excellent, Cleo," Lupin encouraged as the girl took her place. "Ten points to Gryffindor! Ready?"

Cleo nodded, and kept her eyes on the trunk as Ms Grayson flicked her wand to open the lid. Again a shadowy figure emerged, taking the shape of a humungous troll. Foul-smelling and carrying a large club, it let out a bellow and raised the knobbly club high above its head.

"_Riddikulus_!" Cleo said in a strong voice.

The troll suddenly brought down the club on his own head, and proceeded to beat himself with his own weapon.

The class laughed appreciatively, and Lupin called out, "Daniel! You next!"

Daniel White, who had teased Connor during their last Defence class, stumbled forward. With a loud crack! the boggart took form of a rotted corpse, which smelled almost as bad as the troll had. Connor swallowed reflexively against it, his lip turning up in disgust to see putrid flesh barely clinging to decayed bone.

"_Riddickulus_!" Daniel cried, and the zombie fell to pieces on the floor, apparently no longer threatening.

"Good!" Lupin said. "Mary! Forward!"

Mary Pye stepped forward to face her fear.

_Crack_! A ferociously snapping dog foamed at the mouth and barked viciously.

"_Riddikulus_!" Mary said quickly, and a purple miniature poodle said yipping playfully before them.

After Mary, it was Quentin's turn. He approached the miniature poodle, with a look of trepidation.

Crack!

Vanessa Malfoy stood before them all, wearing prison robes, her hands in iron shackles. "Help me, Quentin!" the boggart cried with Vanessa's voice. "Don't let them take me away!"

Quentin looked wild-eyed for a moment before pointing his wand at her, saying, "_Riddikulus_!"

There were cheers and whistles as Vanessa Malfoy was suddenly divested of her prison robes, and stood in front of the class in a green bra and knickers, though her hands were still bound. "Quentin! Help me!" she cried again.

"_Riddikulus_!" Quentin said again through gritted teeth, obviously not finding the image of his nearly-naked sister in front of a class full of students amusing.

Crack! Vanessa was gone, and in her place was Quentin's father, also in prison robes and shackles.

This time Quentin set his expression with determination and shouted, "_Riddikulus_!"

Draco Malfoy was forced into the same bra and knickers that Vanessa had been in earlier and Quentin smiled with relief.

"Marvellous," Lupin chuckled. "Excellent work! And last, but not least, Gareth."

Gareth stepped toward Mr Malfoy, and there was a loud crack as a deadly looking animal suddenly crouched before the class, growling menacingly. Connor recognised the giant spotted cat from his Care of Magical Creatures text, and automatically grabbed Ivy and Zack's robes and pulled them backward.

"What is that?" one of the students near Connor asked.

"A nundu," Connor whispered. "Its breath is poisonous."

A couple of things happened at once at that point: the nundu crouched as though ready to spring at Gareth, who looked as though he might faint; Ms Grayson had stepped in between the boy and the cat; and there was a loud crack. Suddenly Ms Grayson was enveloped in a black mist, with only her feet visible.

"She gasped, and her wand clattered to the floor. It rolled to Connor's feet; he scooped it up, thinking that he should return it to her so that she could fight off the boggart, but not knowing if he should stick his hand into the black mist. What was that stuff anyway?

"Elizabeth!" Lupin exclaimed. His voice carried over the excited and confused chatter of the students.

"Remus?" Ms Grayson's voice definitely held a hint of panic in it. "Remus, I can't see!"

"Stay calm, Elizabeth!" Remus ordered, stepping forward, keeping his voice even as he gestured for everyone else to be silent.

"We should get her out of there!" Darcy Layton said, stepping forward.

The mist suddenly whipped away from Ms Grayson, and there were two loud cracks in quick succession. Suddenly there was a large full moon with eight hairy legs standing before the class. The boggart had tried to scare both Darcy and Lupin at the same time.

Darcy wisely retreated back to the side of the room, Leaving Lupin to dispatch the boggart easily back into the trunk.

Once he had latched it, Lupin turned to see Ms Grayson kneeling on the floor, trying to get her breathing under control. "I want everyone to put their desks back in order and sit down, while I take Ms Grayson to my office to rest," Professor Lupin told them while he helped Ms Grayson to her feet.

She made no argument as he led her to the staircase leading to the office and helped her to climb it.

Connor looked at his friends for a moment, and then pulled his desk back into place. When Lupin returned a few minutes later, everyone was in their seats, looking worried.

"As you all could see," the professor said, sounding a bit shaken, "Ms Grayson has a fear of blindness."

Connor looked around and saw looks of comprehension on others' faces.

"As you also witnessed, she made a potentially fatal error. What was it?" Lupin asked.

Several hands shot into the air, and Lupin pointed to Andrew Tillman.

"She dropped her wand," Andrew answered confidently.

"Correct," Lupin said. "A very dangerous thing to do when facing a boggart. What if her greatest fear had been something like that nundu? It could easily have killed her without a wand to protect herself with."

There were nods of understanding all around the room.

"Incidentally," Lupin said, "a nundu is particularly fatal, and is deemed one of the most dangerous of magical creatures. Ms Grayson intervened because the nundu's very breath is deathly – not because she doubted Gareth's ability to deal with a boggart. Five points for everyone who faced the boggart both Wednesday and today."

Several people clapped at this news, and as the bell rang, Lupin called out for them to read the next chapter in their texts before next class. As soon as the students started leaving, Connor noticed that Lupin all but flew up the stairs to his office, not waiting to see them out.

The next morning, Connor woke early with a case of nerves. He knew that if he had problems during today's match, he would be off of the team for good. He loved Quidditch; to be taken off of the team because he couldn't concentrate would be totally humiliating.

Even though it was early, he showered and got dressed in his game robes, then headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He wasn't the only one already awake. Aiden, Whitney and Rachel were all seated at the Gryffindor table, and a few of the Ravenclaw players were at their table, looking anxious as well.

"You're up early," Rachel said around a yawn as she half-heartedly stirred treacle into her porridge.

"Nerves," Connor admitted as he sat across from her. "I can never sleep on a game day."

"Doesn't seem to affect your appetite," Aiden observed as Connor piled his plate with eggs and sausages.

"I'm starving," Connor said as he poured himself some tea. "McGonagall reckons I must be growing again."

"At least it's not snowing," Whitney said, then turned and asked Connor, "Are you going to be okay for the match today?"

"I'll be fine. Lupin's going to go through my Occlumency with me to make sure my mind's as clear as can be before the match. I'll do it about an hour before game time, and I should be just fine."

Quentin and Ivy arrived at the table a minute later still looking a bit sleepy, and Amanda came in a few minutes after them.

Connor looked over at the Ravenclaw table and counted the heads of everyone in blue robes, and noted that all but one of their players was up early as well.

"Are you three sure you know what you're doing out there?" Whitney's Chasers huddled together to go over their planned strategies again. "I don't want you all in the hospital wing in the middle of the game."

"We're sure," Quentin said firmly. "It'll be brilliant."

Before too long, the entire Great Hall was full of excited students. Rachel and Ivy both looked a little green. This would the first real game either of them had played in, and they were looking increasingly nervous as the time approached for them to play.

"Are you ready, Connor?"

Connor turned in his seat to see Professor Lupin standing behind him.

"Yes," Connor said, and stood. "I was thinking that the best place would be the Gryffindor changing rooms, just in case it takes longer than I expect."

Lupin agreed, and Whitney approved as well.

"We'll see you in an hour, when we come in to kit up" She said.

Almost hour later, Professor Lupin broke his connection with Connor and they both opened their eyes to see the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team looking at them curiously.

"How long have all of you been standing there?" Connor asked, feeling mildly embarrassed and self-conscious.

"Only a couple of minutes," Ivy assured him. "Are you finished, then?"

Connor's mind felt clear and he had no trouble focusing, even though he knew that the stands outside were rapidly filling with students eager to see the match.

Once Whitney seemed satisfied that he was telling the truth, Lupin excused himself to take a seat in the stands. The team strapped on all of their protective padding while waiting for Whitney's usual pep talk, which was delayed when Madam O'Leary strode into the room and announced that Ravenclaw had opted to replace one of their Chasers with a reserve player.

"Which one?" Whitney asked suspiciously.

"Lawrence Swann is being replaced by Francine Lowery," Madam O'Leary said.

"She's a fourth year, isn't she?" Whitney asked.

"She is," Madam O'Leary confirmed. "I'll give you five extra minutes to discuss any changes Gryffindor may want to make, but I expect you out on the pitch no later than five past ten."

Whitney waited until Madam O'Leary had left before turning to her team. "Do any of you know anything about Lowery?"

"She's in my Transfiguration class," Aiden said. "I don't know much else. She's wasn't on their team last year."

"Well, they're clearly trying to throw us off balance with this, which means they're worried," Whitney surmised. "I say we go along as planned."

Rachel suddenly swallowed, burped, and bolted from the room, to be heard retching loudly from the nearby loo. She returned with a little more colour in her cheeks, and an apologetic look on her face. "Sorry," she said sheepishly, "nerves."

When team was ready, they grabbed their brooms and walked out onto the pitch. The roar of the crowd was deafening, and Connor grinned at the large section above him that were all waving red and gold banners and cheering for Gryffindor.

His head was still clear, and there wasn't even a hint of unwanted interference as Connor followed his teammates to the centre of the pitch to meet the other team.

Ravenclaw Beater and Captain Athene Theodopolis stepped forward to shake hands with Whitney.

At the signal from Madam O'Leary, both teams mounted their brooms and kicked off into the air to take position.

Connor hovered over the pitch, focusing intently on the Quaffle in Madam O'Leary's hands. He didn't try to track the Bludgers or the Snitch as they were released, but felt the Snitch buzz past his ear for a second before it vanished.

The Gryffindor Chasers had spent hours going over plays, plans and contingencies for this game. Connor's nerves jangled for a moment as Madam O'Leary tossed the Quaffle into the air and began the game.

The ball rose between Amanda and Francine, and play began.

Connor blinked at how quickly Lowery nipped the ball from in front of Amanda's face and took off toward Gryffindor's goal posts, but didn't think twice about bring his broom around and giving chase.

They had practiced this. Ravenclaw's other two Chasers, Miriam Sundstrom and Stephanie Booth, flanked Lowery as they raced toward the scoring area. Connor caught up with them easily, and flew his broom up beside Sundstrom, while Amanda flew up beside Booth. Quentin flew above Lowery; Ivy and Aiden took their places above and below the knot of players, doing their best to repel the Bludgers.

Connor eased his broom over into Sundstrom's, forcing her to crowd over toward Lowery. On the other side, Connor knew that Amanda was forcing Booth over toward Lowery as well. Connor glanced up to see that Quentin was flying above and ahead, just has he was supposed to be, and then rammed into Sundstrom none too gently.

Sundstrom, predictably, rammed back, using her left foot to kick out at Connor's broom, throwing them both off course. On the other side, Connor knew that Amanda was similarly provoking Booth. As soon as Lowery was freed from the vice of people, she put on a spurt of speed, clearly intending to attempt to score.

There was a gasp from the crowd as Quentin suddenly appeared in front of Lowery, having dropped vertically in mid-air while keeping his broom horizontal. Lowery screamed at the sudden appearance of a body in front of her, dropped the Quaffle and raised her arms to shield her head.

Quentin, his job complete, dropped even further, then rolled upside down for a moment to avoid a collision, while Amanda scooped up the fallen Quaffle and turned back the other way.

The crowd cheered loudly, but Connor only really heard it for a moment as he brought his broom around and prepared to fend off the Ravenclaw Chasers who were trying to regain possession of the Quaffle.

Connor could see that Ivy and Aiden had Stephanie Booth busy with a pair of Bludgers, while Lowery and Miriam were doing their best to intercept the Quaffle that Amanda and Quentin were passing back and forth.

Connor placed himself under Miriam, then brought his broom up from beneath her, forcing her away from Amanda. He had barely enough time to pull his broom to the right to avoid being in the scoring area while Amanda made her attempt.

"And Gryffindor scores first!" The announcer proclaimed as Connor ducked a Bludger.

The Quaffle was put back into play and Quentin didn't waste any time in putting his newly practiced moves to work as he sped along beside Booth, who had possession of the Quaffle, preventing her from passing it to her team mates. Connor worked to keep Miriam from going to her teammate's rescue, and grunted as he received a kick to his shins for his efforts.

Normally Connor wouldn't be rough with a girl. However, this was Quidditch, and he was playing to win. He thanked the powers that be for his protective padding, and threw all of his weight sideways, driving his shoulder against Miriam's, hard. She slipped sideways a bit on her broom, and was just distracted enough to miss the pass that Booth had barely managed to throw her way. Amanda was there to intercept, and all brooms headed back in the direction of Ravenclaw's goal posts.

Connor neatly caught the Quaffle as Amanda tossed it to him, and sped forward toward the scoring area. At the last moment, he dove toward the ground, where Quentin was waiting; and Connor handed the ball off to see Quentin shoot upward and score a goal.

After thirty minutes of lively play in which Quentin performed a lot of aerial acrobatics to confuse the other team, and Ravenclaw scored twice against Rachel - who was otherwise doing a fine job of defending the hoops, Ravenclaw called a time-out. Connor dropped to the ground out of breath but elated with their successes so far.

Whitney was all smiles as the team gathered around, and said, "Right - they've seen what you can do on that broom now, Quentin, so you're going to be their main target. I'm going to bet that they are going to get a lot more aggressive after this, so be on the lookout. Ivy and Aiden – you two will need to be on the look out in particular, because so far their Beaters haven't been overly forceful. There's still been no sign of the Snitch, but when it comes out, don't stop playing. Just keep on what you're doing, and we'll win this."

The team nodded in agreement, and put their hands together in the centre of their huddle and shouted, "Gryffindor!" just as the whistle signalled that the time-out was over.

Connor mounted his broom once more, ignoring the very faint buzzing that was beginning to intrude at the back of his mind. He would not let it interfere with this game!

Gryffindor got possession of the Quaffle immediately as play resumed. The Ravenclaw team did exactly as Whitney had predicted: their Beaters were now doing their level best to knock Bludgers at Connor, Quentin and Amanda, while their Chasers were doing their best to knock the Gryffindors off balance or off of their brooms.

That was fine by Connor; he didn't mind playing rough. He sped up to fly beside Francine Lowery, and wasn't surprised when she kicked at his broom handle, making Connor wobble a bit in the air. Connor held steady, and when he saw a Quaffle being passed to Lowery, he simply flew right into her side, snatching the Quaffle out of the air where Lowery had just been flying.

Things got even rougher, and penalties were given and taken with regularity over the next twenty minutes. The crowd was excited, and cheering or booing, making a huge noise. They went wild when Quentin hooked one of his legs around a Ravenclaw Beater's broomstick handle and used it as a pivot-point to duck under a Bludger, swinging his whole body, along with his broomstick, under the Beater.

The Beater, looking to see where Quentin had just gone, didn't spot the Bludger that hit him full force in the solar plexus.

Connor was gritting his teeth, and actually welcomed the pain of a blackened eye that Lowery's elbow helpfully gave him. It was something to help to block out the mental roar trying to intrude. He glanced down at the gauge on his broomstick handle that told him the score, seeing that Gryffindor was leading by sixty points. He prayed the Snitch would make an appearance soon, or he would be in big trouble.

"Connor! Look out!" Amanda shouted off to his right.

Connor ducked instinctively as a Bludger grazed his hair, narrowly missing him. A moment later, he was startled badly when a huge something dropped its full weight fell into his lap, then slipped off sideways, almost taking him down, too.

It took him a moment to realize that Whitney had just dropped into his lap from above, and hurriedly grabbed at her ankles as she threw herself sideways wildly. She was hanging from Connor's hands, as he held onto her legs with all of his strength, praying that he wouldn't drop her before one of the others could come to their aid. His leg muscles strained from his efforts to keep his seat as he tried not to be dragged sideways with no free hands to help him.

For a heartbeat there was complete silence. Then the crowd erupted into wild cheers and the announcer shouted, "I don't believe it! Whitney Glendale catches the Snitch! Gryffindor Win!"

Confused Connor sagged with relief when Quentin and Aiden flew up from below to grab Whitney and take her weight off of him. Connor grinned when he saw Whitney's face was flushed with victory as she waved the Snitch in the air.

"Final score: Gryffindor two-hundred sixty, Ravenclaw eighty. Snitch caught one hour, twelve minutes into the match!"

Connor barely heard the announcement over the roar in his own head, and carefully flew to the ground, into the crowd flooding onto the frozen pitch. He barely took in the sight of his Uncle Ron there, hugging Rachel and then, oddly, hugging Quentin, before he shoved his way through all of the milling bodies and into the changing room.

He dropped down onto a bench and held his aching head in his hands, taking deep breaths as he willed the pain to stop. Thoughts and feeling were overwhelming him to the point where he could hardly think. His hands, which hadn't bothered him much lately, were beginning to itch furiously.

"What a game!"

Connor groaned as Aiden tramped into the changing room, shouting exuberantly, followed by Ivy, Quentin, Amanda and most of the reserve team.

None of them noticed Connor's discomfort at first, and continued their celebrations as they shed their padding and discussed the exciting conclusion to the game.

"Hey, Connor!" Ivy said happily, seemingly uncaring that one of her fingernails had turned black from being smashed earlier in the game. "Brilliant catch! I thought Whitney was a goner!"

"Yeah Con, great catch!" Connor looked up to see Ron with his arm around Rachel, and grinning down at him. "Your dad'll be sorry he missed it!"

Connor nodded in acknowledgement, then darted into the adjoining toilet, and noisily emptied his stomach.

"I used to be sick before every game," Ron said sardonically when Connor returned to the changing room. "Are you all right?"

Connor tried to smile weakly at his uncle, but found that he pain in his head was just too much. "Headache," he croaked.

Then the world spun, and turned black.

Connor groaned when he came to, and realised that he was moving, and being shaken in the process. He groaned as the pain in his head throbbed, and opened his eyes to see Ron's concerned face.

"Don't worry, pal," Ron huffed out as he jogged with Connor in his arms. "I've got you. It's the hospital wing for you."

Connor groaned again as he comprehended the words, and heard Ron chuckle in response.

"Madam Cosgrove should just give you your own room, Con," Rachel said from somewhere off to his left. From the sound of her voice, she was jogging alongside her father as Ron carried him up to the castle.

"I just need quiet," Connor said weakly.

"It'll be quiet in the hospital wing," Ron said firmly.

They soon reached the castle, and Connor was ashamed to admit, even to himself, that he would never have made it to the hospital without help.

"Is that Connor?"

Connor heard Whitney's voice from somewhere within the hospital wing, and wondered how she had gotten here. Then he heard Rachel telling their team captain what had happened to him after the match.

Madam Cosgrove hurried over to him and immediately began to run diagnostic charms on him, clucking over his black eye.

"I just need to do my Occlumency," Connor told her wearily. "Please."

She studied him for a moment, then nodded briskly and used her wand to summon screens to place around his bed, casting sound-muffling charms around them so he could concentrate.

Ron stepped into the newly formed cubicle, and helped to remove his padding, than left him alone with a wink.

Connor sighed with relief as he lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes. He envisioned his sky, but instead of the usual blue, it was gray, with dark clouds roiling through it. He was at a loss for a moment as to where to start, but then simply began pushing the clouds away one by one until they were gone, leaving the sky blue once more.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to see Ron and Professor Lupin sitting quietly beside him in the dim light.

"Hey," Connor said sleepily. "What time is it?"

"It's about six-thirty in the evening," Professor Lupin answered, sitting up straighter in his seat. "We thought you were asleep."

Connor merely shook his head in amazement.

"Are you hungry?" Ron asked, getting to his feet and stretching.

"Starved," Connor said around a huge yawn, "and tired. Was I really doing Occlumency for six hours?"

"I doubt it," Lupin replied quietly as Ron excused himself to hunt up a meal for Connor. "More than likely slipped in and out of your Occlumency as you tired, and rested for a bit without realizing it. You had us worried."

"Sorry," Connor said, looking down at the front of his robes because he didn't want to meet Lupin's gaze. "It all came crashing in on me at the end of the match, and I couldn't fight it back."

"I don't know what to say to you, Connor," Lupin admitted quietly. "The Occlumency we practiced together before the game should have done the trick. If you can't manage to play a match for more than an hour or two without doing this kind of harm to yourself, I don't see how you can stay on the team."

"No!" Connor said loudly in protest. He sounded a bit desperate as he added, "I lasted until the end. I fought it back for long enough to finish the match and get to the ground, and even when it all broke through, I didn't foresee anything related to the game! You know I didn't, or I'd be purple right now. Don't make me give it up!"

"Connor," Lupin said patiently. "I found this." Lupin held up the Animus Orb, which was currently blank. "It was in your hand when Ron brought you here. A hand that you had been scratching at again."

"I don't remember taking it out," Connor admitted in a small voice. He looked down at his hands to see that they appeared to be fine, except for a single long scratch down the top of the left one.

"I'm sure you probably don't," Lupin said. "You were in terrible shape. We put it in your hand once you were Occluding, and the Orb was an absolute tempest inside, from what we could see. We didn't let it out of your hand until we saw that the Orb was showing your mind calming down. It was very frightening."

"But I'm fine now," Connor said stubbornly.

"You were sick and couldn't even walk back to the castle on your own," Lupin pointed out bluntly. "You were unconscious for over six hours before you got yourself together enough to come out of it. It's just too much of a risk."

"Please, Uncle Remus," Connor begged. "Give me one more chance. If this happens at the next match, I'll willingly resign from the team."

"I'll write to your parents and see what they have to say about it," Lupin said tiredly. "I have to inform them anyway, since you'll be spending the night in the hospital wing. I wouldn't get my hopes up, if I were you."

Connor didn't get a chance to reply to this. Madam Cosgrove came in just then to check on him again, bearing several potions for him to drink. She also smeared his black eye with the same paste he had seen her use on Quentin before.

When she heard that Ron had gone to get Connor a meal, she warned him to eat slowly, then asked Professor Lupin to help Connor change into the pyjamas she had brought in with her.

After helping Connor out of his game robes, Lupin used a freshening charm to cleanse away some of the dried perspiration and grime from the game. It wasn't as good as a nice hot shower, but it made him feel better nonetheless.

Connor allowed himself to be urged back into bed. As he leaned into the pillows that Lupin had stacked behind him, he was shocked at how tired he was from simply standing and getting undressed. The day must have taken more of a toll on him than he realized.

Ron returned a short time later carrying a huge tray of food, which Connor dug into with enthusiasm. Once he had eaten his fill, Lupin and Ron left him to rest. He lay back on the pillows, and let sleep drag him under.

His last thought was, "Mum and Dad will never make me quit the team."

To be continued...

**A/N - As always you can check out my Live Journal for responses to your comments! Link to my LJ can be found on my author bio page.**

**Next Chapter - Bend in the Road**


	14. Chapter 14 Bend In The Road

**Chapter 14 – Bend in the Road **

_The bend in the road is not the end of the road unless you refuse to take the turn. – Anon _

Connor woke the next day in the hospital wing feeling a bit achy and stiff, but clear-headed. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see his father and mother standing at the foot of his bed, looking worried and talking with Madam Cosgrove and Professor Lupin.

They hadn't noticed that he was awake yet, so he closed his eyes again, then unabashedly listened in to their conversation.

"It shouldn't take him much longer to wake," Madam Cosgrove was saying. "The potions I gave him aren't long-lasting, but the mental energy he used up probably tired him more than we realized at first."

"I just don't understand why this happened in the first place," Harry said, sounding frustrated. "It sounds like he did everything properly to prepare."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Lupin said. "I went through his Occlumency with him before the match. We finished only minutes before the players went out onto the pitch."

"No," Harry said quietly, "I understand. It's just troubling that Connor's condition deteriorated so rapidly after the match. He's never been so bad that he couldn't even function."

"Well, it's plain that he won't be able to keep his place on the team," Ginny said with a sigh.

"No!" Connor abandoned all pretence and sat upright. 'You can't make me quit!"

"Connor," Ginny said, going to sit beside his bed to take his hand, "I just don't see how we can allow you to play. You'd be putting your life at risk."

"But I made it through the match! I made it to the ground and all the way to the changing rooms before I had any real problems." Connor knew this was stretching the truth, but he had to make her see his side.

"You know that's not true," Lupin said. "You said that you were already having problems at the tail end of the match."

Connor tried to swallow past the huge lump in his throat, and clenched his teeth in an effort to keep his chin from trembling.

"Connor," Ginny said gently, "What if the game had gone on longer? Can you honestly tell me you would have been all right to play for another half an hour or more?"

Connor resolutely did not answer, refusing to meet her eyes. He couldn't believe they weren't going to take his side in this! He couldn't believe that his father wasn't standing up for him. They _knew_ how important Quidditch was to him!

"Con," Harry said quietly, putting a hand on Connor's shoulder, "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but we can't risk your life for a game. Maybe some day we'll be able to find a way for you to overcome all of the stuff going on with you, but until then, you're not going to be playing in any more matches. I'm sorry."

"It isn't fair!" Connor said petulantly. He pulled his hand from his mother's grasp, folding his arms across his chest. "This stinks!"

"You're right," Ginny said, "it isn't fair, and it does stink. I wish there was another way, but I don't see one."

Lupin, who was standing at the foot of Connor's bed, asked, "If I might make a suggestion?"

Connor looked up at him hopefully, wanting to hear anything that would negate his parent's decision. He wasn't encouraged by Lupin's calm demeanour, but was willing to grasp at straws if it meant he could stay on the team.

"While I agree that Connor playing in the actual matches is out of the question," Lupin began, and Connor's heart sank, "he doesn't have any problems of this sort during team practices and scrimmages. It's only a concern when he's surrounded by hundreds of excited students."

Connor could feel his father's grip tighten on his shoulder for a moment, before Ginny said, "That's true, but I don't see how that will help unless we can convince the entire student body not to come to any of Gryffindor's games."

"He could remain on the team as a reserve," Lupin said calmly, ignoring the mild sarcasm. "He could still play with his team, and help them plan and practice. I know it's not as good as his current spot, but there's really no reason he has to give up flying altogether. The team can still use his skills, and Connor would still be able to be included in every way, except at matches."

"I think we could allow that," Harry said. "If it's what Connor wants to do."

"What I want is for things to stay like they are," Connor said sadly. "There has to be a way I can play! Maybe I just didn't do my Occlumency good enough."

"Connor," Lupin said patiently, "we went through it together. Your mind was as clear as it could get just before the match. The trouble didn't start until you were playing."

"But maybe…" Connor said desperately. There _had_ to be a way to get his parents to agree to let him try again! "Maybe if I just play for the first half of the game, then if I have problems, they can put in a reserve!"

"Sorry," Harry said. "The rules clearly state that substitutions have to be made before the game starts, and if a player is deemed unfit to play, the team has to play short, or forfeit to the opposing team."

"But…"

"Sorry, Connor," Ginny said, putting an end to whatever wild argument he was about to come up with. "We'll agree to allow you to continue on with practices, but not with matches."

"Take it or leave it, Con," Harry said. "Sorry."

"Take it," Connor muttered angrily. "Since it's the only choice I have."

Madam Cosgrove appeared a few moments later, carrying a tray of breakfast. "Once he's eaten, he free to go," she said.

Professor Lupin excused himself. After he had gone, Connor shared his breakfast with his parents as they talked quietly of everything _except_ his precognition and Quidditch.

When it was time for them to go, Harry cuffed Connor affectionately on the shoulder, while Ginny smoothed down Connor's collar and kissed his cheek.

Connor miserably headed back up to his common room to tell the team that he could no longer play in any matches.

Connor was surprised and relieved to learn that he would not have to tell them after all; the team had already heard from Lupin about his change of status on the team. Whitney told Connor how glad she was that they wouldn't be losing him all together, then called an official planning meeting to decide how they would handle things.

-0-

The next few weeks were painful for Connor as word got out about his being shifted to Gryffindor's reserve team. He still went to practice three times a week, worked as hard as he had before, but it wasn't the same.

Many of the Slytherin players teased Connor about it in the corridors. They hadn't forgotten how his feud with Vanessa Malfoy last year had gotten her permanently dismissed from their team. More than one Slytherin told Connor that he had gotten what he deserved.

Vanessa herself had been strangely silent on the subject, but Rupert had had more than enough to say about it. He had howled with laughter over what he called Connor's demotion on the team, and had not stopped making rude comments about it until Connor had threatened to remove all of Rupert's teeth, by force, one at a time. Connor thought that the detention he had gotten from Professor Thompson (who had heard the threat) had been worth the look of panic in Rupert's eyes.

Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw seemed to be torn between elation that Gryffindor's team was possibly weakened by the loss of one their star players, and sympathy Connor's his plight.

Connor did his best to ignore the people who teased him and concentrated on getting Randall Gordon up to speed as Connor's replacement on the first team.

Gryffindor's next match was against Hufflepuff. Though they weren't due to play each other until just after Christmas, several Hufflepuffs had been caught trying to spy on Gryffindor practices.

-0-

At the end of November, a Hogsmeade visit was scheduled for the first weekend in December.

With the Yule ball approaching, a lot of the students in the upper years began acting unusually excited. There was talk in the Great Hall and in the common room about dates and dress robes and the band that McGonagall was rumoured to have hired.

"Thank Merlin I don't have to go to the Yule ball!" Connor said with feeling on the Saturday of the Hogsmeade visit watching Whitney and Amanda giggle over some fashion magazine. Apparently fur trimmed cloaks were all the rage this season.

"Unless someone asks you to be their date," Rachel said with an impish smile. "Quite a few girls fancy you, you know."

"Not even then," Connor said adamantly. "I'm not going."

"Oh, Connor, that's too bad," Amanda said, fluttering her eyelashes at him dramatically. "I was going to ask you to go with me."

Connor scowled at her, making her laugh. Connor knew full well that Amanda had recently started going out with his cousin, Shawn, who was a sixth year.

"I think it might be fun to go," Ivy said seriously. "I hardly ever get to wear dress robes and I never get to go dancing."

"I had to take dancing lessons," Quentin said with a faint grimace.

"What for?" Connor asked, smirking.

"My parents made me," Quentin said, "from the time I was five. They're always being invited to _important business parties_ or some rot, and I usually end up having to go along if the host has any kids. They thought I should be able to fit in, and made me take dance, etiquette, elocution… you name it."

Connor made a horrible face to show his distaste at the idea of that sort of upbringing.

"My parents were a bit like that, too," Zack commiserated with a nod at Quentin. "Not that extreme, but they made sure I learned how to dance and how to behave _in polite company._"

"My dad taught me to dance," Ivy said with a smile. "He says that my mum taught him."

"My mother is a great dancer." Rachel sighed, obviously finding the subject romantic. "Dad will dance to please Mum, and every so often I'll catch them at it when they think us kids aren't around."

"All this talk of dancing is going to make me ill," Connor proclaimed. "I don't care if a full-blooded veela walks in and invites me, I'm not going."

"I could teach you to dance," Ivy offered brightly.

"I _know_ how to dance," Connor told her impatiently. He didn't feel the need to add that he wasn't very good at it. "I just don't like to."

"Forget it, Ivy. He's hopeless." Rachel advised. "If you really do want to go, I'm sure we could find you a date old enough to attend."

Connor ignored the conversation from that point on, and looked forward to visiting Hogsmeade later in the morning. His supply of sweets was getting low, plus he wanted his uncles' advice on how much a photograph of the Marauder's Map could actually tell Rupert.

After breakfast, they went to gather their cloaks, then there was a mass exodus across the school grounds.

Connor reckoned that the unusually early snowfall this year had given many of the students cabin fever. Most of the students seemed anxious to see something outside of the castle walls.

Connor walked with Quentin, Ivy and Zack toward the village, feeling sorry once more that Rachel could not come with them.

"Any idea what Rachel's doing today while we're in Hogsmeade?" Connor asked.

"She said something about going to the library to work on the charm for finding books to copy the map," Zack said. "She's obsessed with finding out how and why the map answered you when you asked it about Mrs Norris."

"Is it just me," Ivy asked as they walked through the slushy cobbled street, "or is Filch acting even grumpier than usual lately?"

"It's not just you," Quentin said. "I saw him giving a Slytherin detention yesterday for sneezing in the Charms corridor. He almost never gives Slytherins detentions."

"He's definitely losing it now that his cat's gone," Ivy said.

"You're going to be going to the Yule ball," Connor said suddenly, looking over at Ivy.

Ivy stopped in her tracks and stared at him. "I am?"

Connor thought about it for a moment, then confirmed what he had just said. "Yes. I don't know who you're going to go with, but you're definitely going."

"Did you do your Occlumency this morning?" Quentin asked Connor.

"Yes," Connor said with a sigh. "Sometimes stuff just slips through."

"Do you need to do it again?" Zack asked.

Connor took a moment to consider, and found that other than the brief surety that Ivy was going to attend the ball, his mind was clear.

"No, I'm all right," he said, and resumed walking toward the High Street.

The others followed him, and when Ivy fell into step beside him, she asked, "So what colour am I going to wear?"

"For Merlin's sake!" Quentin said in exasperation. "This isn't going to be a _shopping trip_ is it? Because if it is, I'm going to go hide in the Quidditch shop."

"I have some perfectly nice dress robes at home," Ivy said with a sniff. "I was just wondering which ones I should have my mother send."

"Thank goodness," Quentin said with relief. "It's bad enough when I have to go shopping with my mother and Vanessa."

"You were wearing something brown, but it was gold, too, kind of like two colours at once," Connor said in the hopes of thwarting an argument. "Like the colour of your eyes."

"I don't have robes like that." Ivy frowned, making Quentin cringe.

"Well, apparently you will soon," Connor said with a shrug. Wanting to change the subject, he asked, "Does anyone mind stopping in at the bookshop? I want to look for a book on potions. I think the original Marauders may have used one on the map, but I haven't found any books about anything like that in the library."

"They'd probably be in the restricted section if there were any," Zack said.

They trooped into the bookshop, and while Connor didn't find what he was looking for, he did find an interesting book on Occlumency that he decided to buy.

After that, they went to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but Connor was disappointed to find that his uncles weren't there. His grandmother, Molly, was there helping out, but he could hardly ask her about the map.

Hogsmeade, decorated with garlands and lights, was crowded with more than just students. Witches and wizards strolled the streets doing Christmas shopping, as well. Some students seemed to be using the Hogsmeade trip as an opportunity to meet their parents for a few hours, and there was a generally festive atmosphere around the village.

Connor and his friends went from store to store, browsing, making purchases and talking with friends about the upcoming Christmas holiday.

Close to lunchtime, Connor began to feel the beginning of a headache coming on. He told the others that he was going to stop in at Honeydukes, then go back to the castle, but told them that they didn't need to come with him.

"I'll probably just go to my room to do my Occlumency, anyway," Connor said dismissively when they offered to walk back with him. "Don't cut your day short on account of me."

Connor left his friends at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, then walked over to Honeydukes, where there was a large crowd of students.

The shop was noisy and hot. Connor gritted his teeth as he quickly gathered the sweets he wanted. He tried to focus on his purchase instead of the fact that Tammy Montrose was planning on sneaking out of her dormitory tonight to spy on two of the prefects she suspected were using their patrol time to snog.

It happened in just the blink of an eye, but Connor could hardly believe it: Rupert was in Hogsmeade.

Connor had just paid for his sweets and accepted his change when he saw a familiar blonde head duck behind the counter. Connor called out, "Hey!" but the shop was so noisy that no one really paid attention.

Rupert saw him, though, and panic shot through his expression before he darted through the door to the basement.

Connor knew that he would never catch Rupert by trying to follow him. He would have to try to beat him back to the school, then wait for him by the statue of the one-eyed witch.

As he shoved his way through the swarming shop and out into the cold air, Connor felt a small stab of pain in his temples, but ignored it. It was suddenly very important to him to catch Rupert red-handed. If Rachel wasn't allowed to sneak out to Hogsmeade, then Connor sure wasn't going to let Rupert get away with it.

As he ran back toward Hogwarts, Connor briefly toyed with the idea of trying to get a teacher to come with him to catch Rupert, but thought better of it. That would raise uncomfortable questions about the passageway itself, and Connor didn't want it closed off.

Out of breath, with his head pounding, Connor was almost to the front steps of the school entrance when he had to stop to rest. He bent double and sucked in great gulps of air while massaging a stitch in his side.

"Mr Potter! Are you all right?" Connor looked up to see Professor McGonagall at the top of the steps in front of the main entrance to the school, looking down at him with concern. "I could see you running back to Hogwarts from the window. Is there something wrong?"

She had started to descend the stairs toward him when Connor suddenly stiffened and called, "Look out, Professor!" Professor McGonagall instantly stepped backward, just as a number of huge icicles fell from and overhang and crashed to the stones below, very near where she'd just been standing."

Unfortunately, in her shuffle backward, Professor McGonagall had lost her footing and slipped on a patch of ice. Connor watched in horror as Professor McGonagall's feet slid out from beneath her and, with a cry of surprise, she crashed to the ground, _hard._

"Professor!" Connor was moving almost before McGonagall cried out. He pulled off the mittens he had been wearing and dropped all of his parcels as he knelt down beside her. He knew that he should get some help, but he didn't want to leave her unconscious on the cold ground.

"Professor, can you hear me?" he asked her desperately, moaning when his hands suddenly flared, itching like mad as he took McGonagall's hand in his own. She didn't move at all.

He looked her over and saw that her leg was resting at on odd angle. It just had to be broken to look that way.

Connor could feel his heart galloping in his chest as he tried to focus past the pain in his head and the distraction of his hands. What should he do?

Finally, Connor's hands, as if acting of their own accord, reached out, guiding Connor along until they rested on McGonagall's injured leg.

His breath coming short, Connor blinked away the haze that suddenly coated his vision, and realized that his hands had stopped itching: they were now tingling and beginning to feel very warm. His chest began to feel somewhat congested, but it only lasted a moment or two. His head felt as though he'd been hit from behind with a Bludger, but that pain was only fleeting as well. Connor felt as if he were suffering a dozen little injuries and illnesses in the space of a minute, each of them fading away to be replaced by another until they were all gone.

From that point, his hands began to get rapidly warmer until they were _hot,_ and he hissed in pain as he found he couldn't pull them away. His hands were rooted to the spot, yet seemed to be working, doing _something_ without his consent. He watched helplessly as, after about a minute more, Professor McGonagall's leg began to straighten itself out.

McGonagall woke at that point and gasped. Connor looked up at her from where he was kneeling by her injured leg, and saw that she looked confused and a bit frightened. He could see her lips moving, but he wasn't sure that any sound was coming out. He realized that there was a tremendous amount of noise that he recognised as mental static; it was like trying to hear her from the opposite end of the Quidditch stadium.

Suddenly the heat in his hands reached a nearly unbearable level. Connor cried out in pain as he tried, again, to let go of McGonagall's leg, but found it impossible. She was saying something to him, gesturing urgently, but he couldn't hear her over the roaring in his ears.

All at once, normal sound returned and Connor heard a loud _CRACK_ that reminded him briefly of the sound a boggart made when changing shape; then his right leg was speared with a sharp pain.

The last thing he heard was Professor McGonagall shouting at someone to bloody well drop whatever they were holding and to help her. Then the darkness, thankfully, swallowed him.

-0-

The first thing that Connor became aware of was pain. His entire body ached as though he had fallen from his broom and landed head first onto rock. He couldn't be bothered to open his eyes, and the groan he let out was raspy and hurt his throat.

"Connor?"

Connor didn't recognise the voice that said his name; it sounded as though it was coming from far away. He slowly became aware of hundreds of other voices in his head, all of them seeming to whisper incoherently. He vaguely realized that he needed to do his Occlumency to shut it out, but didn't know if he had the energy for it. He was utterly exhausted.

"Connor?" The voice sounded slightly closer this time, and sounded female.

"Potter, can you open your eyes?" This was a different voice, more familiar. "Mr Potter, open your eyes at once!" Connor recognised Professor Snape's voice and reckoned he must have fallen asleep during a Potions lesson. He forced his eyes open, then shut them quickly again, shielding them with his arm against the light and the stab of pain it caused.

"Well at least we know he can hear us," Connor heard Professor Snape's satisfied voice say.

Connor groaned again, and tried to let the darkness drift over him once more.

"Oh, no you don't," came the female voice again. Connor didn't want to stay awake any longer, and was frustrated when he felt his shoulders being pulled on, forcing him to sit up.

"Give him a minute," Snape said, though Connor didn't open his eyes. "Let's make sure he isn't going to be sick before we give it to him."

It turned out to be wise advice. Connor retched almost immediately as the pain in his head shot viciously from ear to ear, almost making him black out. He was too weak to do anything but allow Snape and the woman (Madam Cosgrove?) to tend to him.

He heard muttered charms and vague noises all around him, all with the underlying chatter of voices and snippets of visions passing behind his eyes in a blur.

"Keep breathing, Connor!" Professor Snape's stern command brought Connor's attention back to the present, and he dutifully sucked in a deep breath, that turned out to be more of a wheeze.

"Should we transport him to St. Mungo's?" the woman asked. She sounded really worried.

"He's not stable enough," Snape's voice answered tersely. "Tell them to send someone."

There was a sound of scurrying footsteps before Snape spoke again.

"I want you to listen to me, Potter," Snape growled sternly in Connor's ear. "You need to drink this potion. It will help with the pain, and it will keep you conscious and breathing, but you will still be tired. Do you understand?"

"Want to sleep," Connor croaked, refusing to open his eyes.

"You may _not_ sleep," Snape snapped. "After you drink the potion, you will concentrate on closing your mind. Push everything from your mind and think of nothing but doing your Occlumency. Is that clear?"

Connor groaned, and forced his eyes open just a tiny bit to see Professor Snape, looking odd in his shirtsleeves, supporting him with one arm while holding a phial of green murky liquid in the other hand.

"Open your mouth, Connor," Professor Snape told him in a gentler tone.

Connor let his mouth fall open, vaguely aware that his lips were dry and gummy-feeling as they parted. Snape brought the phial to Connor's mouth and tipped the liquid in, then dropped the phial and massaged Connor's throat to help him to swallow.

Connor coughed a bit as the sour-tasting liquid went down, but felt some of the pain in his head recede almost immediately as his breathing became less laboured. Some of the drowsiness was leaving him, as well, though he still felt drained.

"Connor," Snape said in his ear as he eased the boy back against the pillows he had just conjured. "If you can keep your eyes open, I want to have a look at what's going on inside your head. I want you to start your Occlumency, and I'm going to attempt a weak _legilimens_ spell on you to monitor your condition. Do you understand?"

"The hellebore you used for the purgative was harvested at the new moon," Connor mumbled, seeing phantoms in his head. "That's why it failed."

"I'm going to take that as a yes," Snape said sardonically, pulling up a chair. He withdrew his wand and pointed it at Connor. "_Legilimens_!"

Connor was only hazily aware that Snape was beside him, and concentrated on following the directions that he'd been given. Push it all out. Occlumency. Don't…fall…asleep….

-0-

Connor became aware of himself again by degrees. The first thing he noticed was the smell-he was definitely in the hospital wing. There were quiet murmurs of people talking nearby, but the voices were indistinct. The fact that they weren't coming from inside his head was a relief.

What was he doing in the hospital wing? Connor sort of recalled Snape shouting at him to open his eyes and thinking that he must have fallen asleep in class. That couldn't be right, could it? Connor never fell asleep in Potions. Other thoughts drifted in and out of his memory, but Connor was unsure which of them were real, and was too tired to puzzle it out at the moment.

Instead, Connor silently took stock of how he felt.

His head ached a bit, but nothing unbearable. His body felt slightly stiff, but not overly painful. His hands didn't itch or burn or tingle—all good signs. In fact, the worst thing that Connor felt was a bad case of dry mouth. He was very thirsty, and his stomach felt completely empty.

When he risked opening his eyes, he was grateful to find the room was only dimly lit; it appeared to be nighttime. It took his eyes a moment to adjust before everything swam into focus. Connor saw that his parents were sitting at his bedside, holding hands, with his mum's head on his dad's shoulder. Beside them was his Aunt Hermione, immersed in some sort of thick book.

Turning his eyes in the other direction, Connor found that Professor Dumbledore was sitting serenely in an armchair, talking quietly over the bed to Ginny and Harry.

"Mum?" Connor rasped after a moment of trying to work up enough saliva to speak.

"Connor!" Ginny was instantly on her feet, leaning over Connor, stroking his hair gently.

Connor swallowed thickly and said, "What is everyone doing here?"

"You had a bit of an accident," Ginny told him with a watery smile. "Do you remember?"

"An accident?" Connor asked, trying to recall anything.

A woman the Connor had never seen before came into the room, wearing the lime-green robes of a St. Mungo's healer.

"Is he allowed to have water?" Harry asked her at once.

"So he's awake, is he?" the healer asked, shooing Ginny away with a gesture of her hand. "How are you feeling, young man?"

"Thirsty," Connor answered. "And tired and hungry and confused."

The healer chuckled and conjured a glass of water with a straw. She held the straw to his lips, and he sipped gratefully, sighing in pleasure once his mouth was moistened.

"I am Healer Wright. Do you feel up to answering some questions for me?"

Connor looked over at his parents to see them smiling before he nodded.

"What day is it?" Healer Wright asked.

Connor was surprised to find that he didn't know the answer to that simple question.

"I don't know," he admitted, feeling embarrassed.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked kindly, checking his pulse.

"I remember Professor Snape," Connor told her. "He yelled at me to open my eyes. He gave me a potion."

"That's fine," she said in a soothing voice. "How about before that? What's the last thing you recall?"

"I was in Honeydukes," Connor said after a minute's consideration. "I saw Rupert there."

"Rupert?" Healer Wright asked encouragingly.

"Rupert Dursley is my cousin's son," Harry supplied quietly. "He's a first-year at Hogwarts. He shouldn't have been in Hogsmeade."

"Right," Connor agreed tiredly. "He was in Honeydukes, and I ran back to the castle to try and catch him. Could I have some more water?

The healer held the straw for him again, then asked, "Do you remember anything after that?"

Connor tried to think, but his memories were becoming fuzzy. "I got back to the castle, and saw Professor McGonagall. She…" Connor felt his heart rate pick up, and wasn't sure why, then suddenly remembered something. "She fell! Is she all right? She wouldn't wake up!"

"She's fine," Dumbledore said calmly from beside him. "Professor McGonagall is in excellent health. You needn't worry about that."

"Do you remember anything after that?" Healer Wright prompted.

"Only the bit about Snape giving me a potion," Connor said after thinking hard about it.

"Nothing about the trip to St. Mungo's?" she asked, peering into his eyes with her lit wand.

"I'm at St. Mungo's?" Connor asked, shocked.

"Good," Healer Wright said after checking his eyes. "Yes, you're at St. Mungo's. How about if I go find you a tray of dinner? I'm sure that Dumbledore and your parents have a lot to talk to you about."

Connor's stomach grumbled at the mention of dinner, so he nodded and watched Healer Wright bustle away.

"What day _is_ it?" Connor asked, feeling uneasy now.

"It's Wednesday evening," Harry told him quietly. "You've been here since Saturday night."

"You're joking!" Connor said incredulously. "What happened to me?"

Connor watched as his aunt Hermione moved over to a seat beside Dumbledore, and everyone pulled their chairs closer to his bed.

"Connor," Professor Dumbledore began. "We believe that we have discovered why you have been having troubles with your hands this year. If we are correct, it may also explain the recent sudden increase in your precognitive abilities."

"It all fits," Hermione murmured, setting the book she had been reading down at the foot of the bed. "All of it. The dates even match up exactly."

"What are you talking about?" Connor asked, baffled.

"Con," Harry said, laying his hand on covers over Connor's leg. "Do you remember when your broom's tail twigs cut Ivy's arm a couple of months ago?"

"Yes," Connor said warily. What could this possibly have to do with why he was in St. Mungo's?

"Madam Cosgrove thought that you healed her with accidental magic," Harry said. "But it might not have been so accidental after all."

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose," Connor objected.

He was getting nervous with the way that his mother was gripping his hand so tightly, and the mere fact the Professor Dumbledore was present. Was he in some kind of trouble? Had he broken some strange law?

"Perhaps not consciously," Professor Dumbledore said. "But you did heal her deliberately."

"I don't understand," Connor complained. Why couldn't adults ever just get right to the point about stuff?

"Connor," Hermione said, "Have you ever heard of a healer by the name of Halima Mwenda?"

"No?" Connor answered, looking at his parents for a clue as to whether or not he should know that name.

"She was something of an empathic healer," Hermione told him. "She lived in a remote village in Kenya."

"Okaaay?" Connor said, wondering if his brain was addled. Aunt Hermione had a tendency to talk about things he didn't understand, but this was really beyond the norm.

"She healed her patients," Dumbledore interrupted with a chuckle, "without charms or potions, when all other remedies failed. She was able to simply lay her hands on her patients and let the magic take over. She healed mostly by instinct, it's said, and lived like a hermit in later years, apparently overwhelmed by the celebrity her gifts brought her."

"What does that have to do with me?" Connor asked.

"There are only three known healers of this nature on the planet at any given time," Dumbledore said gravely. "We don't know why, or how the talent is passed on, but there has never been more than three. They have also always been witches, as far as we can discern."

"What does this have to do with Ivy and what I'm doing in St. Mungo's?" Connor asked.

"Halima Mwenda died on the same day that you were born, Connor," Hermione said. "Since then, no new Healer had come to light. We think that you inherited her gift. We think _you're_ the third Healer."

Connor looked at his Aunt Hermione blankly for a moment, and then did the only thing that made any sense. He laughed.

_To be continued..._

_**A/N - as always, let me know what you thought of this chapter, and I will respond to your comments on my live journal - you can get there through my bio page.**_


	15. Chapter 15 Keeping It Secret

Chapter 15 – Keeping It Secret

_Man is the only creature that refuses to be what he is. – Albert Camus_

Connor couldn't help it. The very idea that he was some sort of empathic healer was just plain ludicrous! He laughed at what had to be some sort of elaborate joke; waiting to hear the real reason he was here in St Mungo's.

"Connor," Ginny said in a low warning tone.

Connor immediately stopped laughing, realizing that Aunt Hermione looked slightly annoyed.

No one else was laughing, either.

"I'm sorry," Connor said, "but Professor Dumbledore just said that these special healers are _witches_. I'm not a witch. And I still don't see what this has to do with my hands and how I ended up at St Mungo's."

"Your case seems to be unique in several different ways, Connor," Dumbledore said quietly. "But it is almost certain that you fit the criteria of a potentially powerful healer. In fact, in retrospect, you've been exhibiting signs of it since you were a small child. It's only recently that your gifts have moved to the forefront of your consciousness. It could be the onset of puberty that has unlocked them, or it could be the trauma of being hit by multiple Stunning Spells at the Ministry of Magic last spring. It could simply be that your stronger talents are emerging now because you are finally growing into them, so to speak."

Connor locked eyes with his father. "Could one of you please explain what's going on in words I can understand?" he asked. "Because none of this is making any sense."

"Dumbledore thinks that your precognition was the first clue, even though we didn't recognize it at the time, that you could be one of these healers he's talking about," Harry said. "Your ability to read peoples' moods or predict their actions might actually be an empathic talent that's part of what a healer uses to figure out what's wrong with someone who needs healing."

"So my precognition isn't really precognition after all?" Connor asked with raised eyebrows. This all sounded pretty far-fetched to him.

"You _do_ have precognitive abilities," Dumbledore corrected him. "The other healers showed only limited precognitive abilities before their talents were discovered, but that may be because none of them was practicing Occlumency at the time, and so their talents were, er, diagnosed earlier. We suspect that teaching you Occlumency actually may have been masking your true talents. You will require training to fully master them."

"My true talents?" Connor wasn't sure he wanted to hear the rest of this. His head was already beginning to ache again.

"Healing," Ginny said quietly, squeezing his hand in a comforting gesture. "Using your clairvoyance to diagnose others' illnesses or injuries."

Connor scrubbed over his face tiredly with his free hand. He asked the first question that popped into him mind, from the hundreds swimming around in his head, "What has this got to do with my hands?"

"We think that your hands have been itching whenever you're near someone with an illness or injury, because your magic wants to heal them. The itching is your magic's way of trying to urge you to act," Hermione said knowledgably. "The Occlumency has been keeping that at bay so far. That's why we didn't recognise it for what it really was."

Connor was stunned to find that Hermione was right. He tried to remember some of the times when his hands had itched badly, in almost every case that came to mind, someone near him had suffered some sort of injury or illness. Evidently doing his Occlumency helped to block out the signals, so that his magic didn't jump to respond.

"I just don't—I can't…" Connor couldn't wrap his head around such an enormous idea and what it all might mean for him.

"Here we are!" Healer Wright's cheerful voice came as a much-needed interruption for Connor. She came in bearing a tray with broth and juice, and some pearly liquid in a short glass. "After you finish the soup and the juice, drink the potion there. It will help you regain your strength and sleep comfortably. We'll want to keep you here for one more day, for observation."

Connor didn't even protest at the prospect of being confined to bed for another. He simply picked up the spoon, surprised at how weak he felt, and slowly sipped at the warm broth. The healer fussed for a moment more, and them left the room to give them some privacy.

"This is a lot to take in," Dumbledore said kindly, getting slowly to his feet, "and there is still more research to do before we can be absolutely certain about anything. Mrs Weasley and I will be on our way to look into matters further."

Hermione stood and kissed Connor's forehead affectionately, saying, "We'll find the answers for you, Connor. Take care."

Connor nodded in agreement, since it was the simplest thing he could do. He didn't know what to think about what they had just told him about himself, but he did know that they never would have told him about it if they didn't believe they were right.

"And, Connor," Dumbledore said from the doorway, "please don't want to talk to anyone else about this-not even the healers here. If your hands begin to trouble you, you should work on Occluding your mind. Do not leave your room unaccompanied."

Connor nodded again, staring briefly at the empty doorway after Dumbledore had gone.

"Mum," Connor said quietly, staring unseeingly into his bowl, willing tears not to start, "Dad? What if I don't _want_ to be a healer?"

"Oh, honey," Ginny said gently as she leaned forward to stroke his hair, "I don't think this is something you get to choose."

Connor felt a heavy weight fall on his chest at this statement. He took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to dispel the gloom that was settling inside of him.

"Connor-" Harry came around to the other side of the bed and sat down, "-just because you have these abilities, doesn't mean that you have to grow up to be a healer as a profession."

Connor looked up at his father, hope burgeoning inside of him. "Really?"

"It's just something that you _are_," Harry assured him, "just like being a wizard; it's a part of you that you need to learn to live with."

"But if there are only three of these Healers on the planet at any given time, won't everyone expect me to-" Connor began.

"We don't care what others expect," Ginny said firmly. "We care about you being happy. You might very well decide that you _do_ want to be a healer, but if you decide to be a butcher, a baker or broomstick maker, we'll support you."

"But until then," Harry said, "you're going to need training. After what happened with Professor McGonagall, it's clear that it would be dangerous to let you-"

"Wait," Connor said. "What happened with Professor McGonagall? You said she was fine!"

"She _is_ fine, Connor," Ginny assured him. "Because of _you_."

"I don't get it," Connor said, trying to remember anything from the point he'd seen McGonagall slip on the ice. Nothing came to mind.

"We don't know the entire story," Ginny said, urging him to continue eating his soup. "Professor McGonagall says that she went outside to see why you were running back to the castle in such a hurry, and then you shouted for her to look out, and she fell while trying to move out of the way of some falling ice."

"Falling ice." Connor tried to recall. "I don't remember."

"That's okay," she told him, pushing his juice forward in a gentle reminder to drink it. "Professor McGonagall said that she blacked out, and when she came to, you were kneeling next to her with your hands on her leg, and it felt hot."

Connor sipped at his juice, feeling like his mother was telling him a story about someone else-he had no recollection at all of trying to help McGonagall.

"_Burning_ hot, she said," Harry added. "And she said that you didn't appear to hear her when she shouted at you to stop,"

"Then she said that she heard a loud crack, and that it was clear that your leg had suddenly broken," Ginny said. "She saw Professor Snape then, and called to him for help just as you passed out."

"My leg broke?" Connor asked sceptically. He flexed his legs weakly beneath the covers and felt no pain, so he assumed they had healed him at the time of the break. "For no reason?"

Harry and Ginny looked at each other for a moment as if deciding what to say next.

"Connor," Harry finally said, "from what they could tell, Professor McGonagall broke _her_ leg in the fall, and when you healed her, you kind of _absorbed_ her injury. You took it into yourself, and then your own body healed the break at an extremely accelerated rate."

"Apparently it wasn't just her leg you healed," Ginny continued. "Professor McGonagall said that she had been suffering from a deep chest cold at the time, and once she was examined, there wasn't a trace of it left; or of the eyesight problems or rheumatism she'd been having troubles with before. It seems like your magic took over and healed it all."

Connor sat silently for a minute, letting this new information sink in. "Ivy," he said at last. "When I healed her, there was blood on my robes, too. It must have been mine."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "You're probably right."

"What happened after that? Why did they bring me to St. Mungo's?" Connor asked.

"Connor," Ginny said, her eyes welling with tears. Harry reached across the bed to take her hand. "You almost died."

_That_ gave him a jolt.

"Died?" Connor asked incredulously. "How?"

"Professor Snape said that your mind was wide open to outside influences. Apparently, everything came flooding into your mind and began playing havoc with your system," Harry explained. "He believes that your Occlumency defences were already breaking down when you met Professor McGonagall, making you more vulnerable to losing control the way you did. Your brain couldn't process everything that was happening to it, and was trying shut your body down, because your mind couldn't focus on any one thing."

"I had a headache," Connor remembered. "I left my friends in Hogsmeade and decided to stop at Honeydukes before going back to the castle to do my Occlumency. Then I saw Rupert."

"If you chased Rupert back up to the castle," Harry asked, "how is it that you couldn't catch him? I don't think he can run that fast. And why didn't Professor McGonagall see _him_ as well?"

"I wasn't exactly chasing him," Connor admitted uncomfortably. "I was trying to get back to the castle to catch him before he got there."

Harry eyed him suspiciously.

"So after I, er, passed out, Snape and Professor McGonagall got me to the hospital wing?" Connor asked, trying to change the subject before he had to explain about the secret passage and the map.

"They pretty much figured out right away that you'd healed Professor McGonagall," Ginny said. "But you were in such bad shape that they didn't have time to consider what it meant. Professor Snape got you to come around long enough to get some potion into you, and to tell you that you needed to Occlude."

"He used a _Legilimens_ spell on you to make sure you could handle it, and once you got things under control in here-" Harry reached up to tap Connor's head softly, "-you lost consciousness again."

"We didn't know what was wrong with you at the time, then the healer that Madam Cosgrove called from St. Mungo's came to check on you and advised them to bring you here."

"So, when did you find out I could be one of these healers?" Connor asked, beginning to feel a strange sense of detachment toward the whole story.

"Once you were brought here, and we knew you would be all right, we pieced everything together," Harry said.

"It was Hermione who figured it out," Ginny said with a smile. "She contacted Dumbledore with her observations, and he thought the idea was worth looking into."

"And all of the pieces fit," Connor surmised gloomily.

"All the pieces fit," Ginny agreed. "Now drink your potion. It's getting late. You still need to do your Occlumency to keep your hands from going nuts here—too many sick people."

To Connor's surprise, he found that he was very tired. The small bowl of broth and glass of juice had, remarkably, filled him up, even though he hadn't had anything solid for more than three days.

His mind was swirling with everything he'd been told, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to take it all in unless his was rested and clear-headed. He knew he'd have plenty of questions about everything later, but for now, he dutifully drank the potion, and settled back onto his pillows

"We'll be back in the morning," Harry told Connor as Ginny tucked in their son.

Connor was already half asleep by the time they'd kissed his forehead and gone through the door.

-0-

Connor woke the next morning to find that the sun had just barely risen. He felt wide-awake, though, and nature was calling him. He spotted a loo just a few paces from his bed and he wondered if he could make it there on his own. He still felt awfully weak. Easing his feet to the cold floor and shivering, he cursed the thin hospital robe he wore before carefully testing to see if his legs would support him.

He had just stood up and taken a tentative step when the door flew open, and a healer marched in. "What do you think you're doing, young man?"

"Er," Connor said, gesturing to the toilet. "I need to go."

"So you thought you'd just hop out of bed and walk around on your own?" the healer demanded curtly.

"Yes?" Connor said tentatively.

The healer strode forward, took his arm, and helped him into the toilet. He was relieved when she didn't insist on staying in the room with him. He hurriedly relieved himself and washed his hands.

The mirror above the sink told him that he needed a haircut.

"But you have very pretty eyes, dear," it said cheerfully.

Connor studied his reflection for a moment and decided that he did need a haircut and that he was very pale and tired-looking.

"Are you finished, Mr Potter?" the healer's voice called through the door.

"Yes," Connor answered, turning away from the sink.

Before he could open the door, she had come in and taken his arm again.

"I'm not an invalid," Connor said grumpily. "I can walk."

"Connor," Ginny scolded.

Connor ducked his head when he noticed his parents had arrived, and quietly apologised for being rude to the healer.

"I've had worse patients than you, my boy," the healer said cheerfully. "Like that one, there." She pointed to Harry.

"I wasn't that bad, Madam Pomfrey!" Harry protested indignantly.

The healer merely looked at him blandly, making Harry blush. She said something about hunting up a breakfast tray and departed.

Connor grinned at his father's embarrassment as he climbed back into the bed. However, he started when he saw that Professor Snape was sitting stiffly in a chair near the foot of his bed.

"Professor Snape!" Connor said in surprise.

"Potter." Snape inclined his head in acknowledgement.

There was a short silence where Connor tried to think of what to say. Why would his Potions professor be visiting him here? Then he remembered that Snape had pretty much saved his life.

"They told me that you helped me back on Saturday," Connor said hesitantly. "Thanks."

"No thanks are necessary, Potter," Snape told him shortly. "Seeing to the safety of Hogwarts students is part of my job."

Connor looked over at his parents, whom were both smirking at the Potions Master.

"Well," Connor said lamely. "Thank you, anyway."

"No doubt you are wondering what I am doing here?" Snape asked bluntly.

"It had crossed my mind," Connor admitted sheepishly. "I mean you probably have classes and all."

"Professor Lyra is skilled adequately enough in potions to handle my first year students this morning, should I fail to make it back to the castle in time," Snape said dryly. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to come and meet with you."

"Why?" Connor asked, confused.

"He shared with me your, shall we say, _unique_ abilities, and thought I might be of some service," Snape told him with a rather sour expression.

Connor wasn't sure what Professor Dumbledore thought Snape could do about him being a healer, and said so.

"Connor," Ginny said patiently, "right now, you can't control the need to try to heal the ill or injured—especially when your Occlumency breaks down. This makes you very vulnerable."

"So Professor Snape is going to make me a potion to help me keep control?" Connor asked.

"Of course not," Snape snapped impatiently. "It is of the utmost importance that you learn to master your impulses, but it is equally important to be able to use your skills to their maximum benefit. To do that, you must learn that you don't have to rely solely on your healing abilities to help others."

"What he's saying," Harry said with a half-hearted glare at Snape, "is that we want you to start studying more advanced potions, especially in the area of medicine. Professor Snape has _graciously_ agreed to tutor you in that area."

Connor sat silently for a moment, thinking about this new information.

"If you learn how to heal people a bit more traditionally before using your gift, it will be less taxing on your system," Ginny said gently. "You're going to need to take extra studies in Medi-Charms, as well."

"How am I going to do all this on top of all of my other classes?" Connor asked. "I thought no one was supposed to know about the healing stuff—how am I going to hide it when I have to take a bunch of extra lessons?"

"Your grades have been sufficient to have you placed in an advanced Potions class," Snape said, as though it were painful to admit. "You show a pronounced aptitude for the subject, so no one would dare question the placement. Any additional training you need will take place under the guise of detention served with me. Merlin knows you'd deserve it."

Connor did his best not to scowl at the surly professor.

"Madam Cosgrove has also agreed to teach you some basic healing charms once we figure out a schedule that won't arouse suspicions," Ginny told him.

"Why can't I just be a normal kid?" Connor groaned.

"Because you are not a _normal kid_," Professor Snape said acerbically. "You've been given a gift that many witches and wizards can only dream of. I will not see it wasted over foolish desires to be like everyone else."

Connor stared at the Professor during this outburst.

"You will work hard in the advanced class," Snape told Connor sternly. "I will accept nothing less than your best. You can no longer afford to carry your friends through their lessons; you will need to concentrate on your own. You're too intelligent to waste your talents that way."

The room fell silent after this and Connor wondered who was more amazed at Snape's compliment. The quiet was only broken by the arrival of Professor Dumbledore and Hermione. They were followed closely by the healer, bearing a tray of thin porridge a slice of toast, more juice and potions.

"Good morning Poppy," Dumbledore greeted the healer with a fond smile.

"Dumbledore," the healer nodded as she set Connor's tray down. "You're looking well."

Dumbledore settled into a chair beside Professor Snape, and Hermione took up a seat beside Harry. The healer gave a few instructions, and tactfully left the room.

Connor spooned up some of the porridge, and waited to see what other news was going to be dumped on him. When no one spoke, he decided to ask one of the questions that had been bothering him.

"What about my Occlumency? Why is it failing on me?"

"It is not so much failing you," Professor Dumbledore said, "as it is being broken down. Your sensitivity to others around you makes it hard for you to keep that protective shield around you, because your magic is fighting to pull it down against your wishes. The healing magic wants to be freed so that it can sense those in need of healing. When you are concentrating particularly hard on another matter—playing Quidditch, for instance-your concentration in other areas, like Occlumency, slips. It doesn't help that you are surrounded by hundreds of excited individuals a good deal of the time."

"My magic is working against me?" Connor asked, appalled.

"Yes and no," Dumbledore said reassuringly. "Your healing magic lacks the proper focus and control, and so is always searching for a way to burst out. As this part of your magic grows, the shields that you erect with Occlumency become easier to defeat. Your mind is at war with your heart, to put it in simple terms."

"So how do I fix that?" Connor asked, beginning to feel afraid of what was happening inside of him.

"By strengthening and focussing your mind," Snape said abruptly.

Dumbledore nodded, and agreed, "It would seem that you will need intensive training in a stronger form of Occlumency than you have needed thus far."

"Will Clive be able to do that?" Connor asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid that Clive is under contract with his current employers for another six months," Dumbledore said apologetically. "And this matter will not wait that long. You need to have someone teach you how to Occlude your mind fully and constantly, and it will need to begin almost immediately."

"If I might suggest…" Professor Snape began.

Connor was startled when his father leapt to his feet and said vehemently, "No! You're not going to be the one to teach him!"

Connor stared in surprise at his father, and Ginny looked annoyed as she pulled Harry back into his seat. Hermione looked slightly amused, but said nothing.

"Harry!" Ginny said. "I don't care if they want to bring Gilderoy Lockhart in here to teach him! You will not let stupid old wounds keep our son from getting the training he needs. If Snape, or anyone else, can give Connor the help he needs, then so be it!"

Harry had the grace to look abashed, but Connor could tell that he didn't like the idea of Snape teaching him Occlumency.

"As I was saying before that outburst," Snape said silkily. "I would suggest approaching Professor Lyra about training Connor. Tara is an excellent Occlumens, and has far more patience than I could ever hope to have. Being a seer is also a factor in her favour, as she will no doubt understand Connor's situation better than most. I understand that this recent discovery about Connor's abilities is of the utmost secrecy, so you will naturally want to check into the matter for yourselves."

"Do you feel she is trustworthy, Severus?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Personally? I would trust her without hesitation," Snape said simply.

"Coming from Snape," Harry conceded, "that's no small recommendation. He doesn't trust anyone."

Professor Snape merely stared back at Harry with a bland expression.

"I'm going to have to take three extra classes?" Connor asked in a tone perilously close to a whine. "Potions, Healing Charms and Occlumency?"

"You will also need to be trained to use your natural healing abilities, but that will have to wait until an appropriate instructor can be found," Professor Dumbledore said. "Perhaps you could spend the summer with one of the other healers."

"Who are the other healers?" Connor asked warily. He didn't like the sound of having to give up his summer to study healing, especially if he was going to end up unconscious every time he healed someone.

"Wen Kuaihao," Hermione said at once, "lives in China, for the most part, but lives a nomadic lifestyle, going wherever there's a need for her. She's a hundred and three years old. She spent the first three decades of her adult years using her talents to make money, and became very, very wealthy before turning to a more altruistic existence."

"I don't believe that she speaks any English," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "And from what I know of her, wouldn't welcome a young apprentice."

"The other is Drina Ayala," Hermione said, obviously having researched the topic thoroughly. "She lives in a remote village in South America, and lives a simple life helping those who seek her out."

"How old is she?" Connor asked, somewhat relieved that his potential mentor was not going to be a very old Chinese woman who spoke no English.

"She's in her sixties, though there wasn't an exact date of birth," Hermione said. "And she does speak some English."

"Then, with the Potters' permission," Dumbledore announced, "I think we should look into seeing if she might be a suitable candidate to help Connor."

"As for you taking on three extra classes," Hermione said, "you won't be taking an extra Potions class, really, but switching to a more advanced one instead. Your sessions with Madam Cosgrove will have to be taken as time and opportunity permit. We don't want to arouse any suspicions about why you're suddenly learning healing charms. Professor Flitwick might also prove helpful in that department."

"The one I'm most concerned about is his Occlumency," Harry said. "If Connor's magic is going to keep pushing him into dangerous situations, that will have to be the first thing he addresses. If he can't get a handle on it quickly, he won't be able to stay at Hogwarts."

Connor's heart stumbled in his chest, and he was about to protest, _loudly_, but was never given the chance.

"Agreed," Professor Dumbledore said contentedly. "Though I doubt that it will come to such drastic measures. I will approach Professor Lyra, or perhaps Severus would be the better person to do that? I believe that they have an established rapport that could help to sway her to our cause."

Connor listened to the adults around him talk about and plan his future. His head was pounding and he had an intense feeling of dread. His appetite had completely fled, while his stomach attempted to tie itself in knots.

"Mr Potter, kindly refrain from tearing the skin from your hands," Professor Snape said sharply, breaking Connor from his morose thoughts.

Ginny immediately grabbed his hands and asked, "Did you do your Occlumency last night?"

"No," Connor said, realizing that the nagging headache forming behind his eyes might not be entirely from stress. "The potion completely knocked me out. I didn't do it this morning, either."

"Careless," Snape muttered in disgust. He surged to his feet and pulled out his wand, pointing it toward Connor.

In an instant, Harry was on his feet with his own wand drawn. "What are you doing, Snape?"

"I am merely checking to see how dire his current state is," Snape said with an exaggerated sigh.

Ginny tugged at Harry's sleeve, urging him to back down.

"It's okay, Dad," Connor said cautiously into the tense atmosphere, while Ginny grabbed at his hand as he tried to scratch again. "He did it before, remember? You told me he helped me back at Hogwarts."

Harry looked from Snape to Connor before nodding reluctantly and sitting back down.

Snape wasted no time in looking into Connor's eyes and muttering, "_Legilimens_!"

Connor felt the familiar tug at his mind, and didn't resist the gentle probing.

After a few moments, Snape broke the connection and said calmly, "His state of mind is much improved from the mess it was in last time I looked. He should be well able to handle Occlumency on his own for now."

"Thank you, Professor," Ginny said quietly.

Snape nodded once in acknowledgement, then excused himself to go and speak with Professor Lyra before taking over his classes for the day.

"Harry!" Hermione said reprovingly once Snape had left. "Do you honestly think that Severus Snape was about to do anything to Connor with all of us here?"

"Sorry," Harry said with a frown, "force of habit."

"The two of you have been allies for far longer than you were enemies," Professor Dumbledore pointed out with a smile.

"I know," Harry admitted ruefully. "I just don't like the idea of him being inside Connor's head. We may have fought a war together, but I never did learn to like the bast… er, man."

"You don't have to like him," Hermione said. "Just remember that you can trust him."

Curiously, Connor watched the adults interact and generally act as if he wasn't there. He was sure that neither of his parents would ever have spoken this way about one of his teachers in front of him if they knew he was paying such close attention.

"I think," Professor Dumbledore said, "that we should all step out and let Connor do his Occlumency exercises and finish his breakfast."

"I'm not really hungry," Connor said, pushing his tray away after eyeing the now-cold porridge.

"You need to have something in your stomach to take the potions," Hermione pointed out. "How about if we come back in an hour with something a little more palatable?"

Connor agreed, and watched them all leave him in peace. He settled back on his pillows and went about painstakingly clearing his mind.

When he came back to awareness, Connor found a new breakfast tray in front of him, and Ginny and Hermione sitting side by side, talking quietly.

"Where's Dad?" he asked as he picked up his fork. The scrambled eggs seemed much more appetizing than the porridge had, and he dug in happily.

"He went home to get the boys and Lucy," Ginny said. "They've been worried about you and wanted to see you before you go back to Hogwarts tonight."

"Adam's not bringing Snowball, is he?" Connor asked suspiciously.

"No," Ginny chuckled. "I'm sure he's not."

**TBC...**

**A/N - as always, I love to hear what you have to say! I hope this chapter cleared up any questions you had from the last chapter. Feel free to ask any questions, and check for responses to reviews on my Live Journal** (link in my author's page)


	16. Chapter Sixteen New Lessons

**Chapter Sixteen – New Lessons**

_When you can't have what you want, it's time to start wanting what you have.Kathleen A. Sutton_

Connor stood just inside the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room, grinning at the sight in front of him. Surrounded by a crowd of older boys (and a few girls), Zack stood in the centre of the room, holding Quentin in a dancing pose in the centre of the room, counting out steps to the music that was playing on an old phonograph, "one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three…"

"See how I'm sliding my foot back a bit here?" Zack asked the gathered boys as he guided Quentin. "You want to take the opportunity here to turn your partner a quarter turn, and…"

Connor waited until Zack's eyes met his and asked, "Is there something you two want to tell me?"

Quentin jumped as though he'd been scalded and Zack let go of him at once.

"You're back!" Zack said, clapping Connor on the shoulder.

"Are you all better now?" Quentin asked, anxiously.

"I'm fine," Connor said with a smile, "What's all this about?"

"Connor!" Rachel's cry could be heard from across the crowded room, and Connor looked up just in time to see her hurtling toward him.

"Take it easy, brat," Connor said as she launched herself at him and hugged him tightly.

"We were so worried!" Rachel said. "I have to go tell Ivy you're back!"

As quickly as she had appeared, she was gone again, hurrying up the steps to the girls' dormitories.

"So," Connor tried again, "want to tell me why I leave for a couple of days, and I come back to find my two best mates doing the tango?"

"It was a waltz," Quentin said with as much dignity as possible.

"Dance lessons," Zack said with a smirk. He gestured to the waiting crowd "These guys want to learn in time for the ball."

Connor knew that the Yule Ball opened and closed with traditional waltzes, with popular music played in between. A couple of the older boys looked embarrassed when Connor surveyed them, but for the most part, they didn't seem to care.

"Are we going to finish here or not?" Drew Hatcher asked irritably.

"Connor!" Ivy's screech preceded her by mere seconds as she threw her arms around Connor's neck and squeezed. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"Come on, guys, looks like the lesson's over for now," Drew said to the others.

"Sorry," Zack muttered. "Tomorrow night, for sure."

"Ivy, I can't breathe!" Connor complained, prying her arms from his neck.

"Come sit down and tell us everything," Rachel demanded, pulling Connor over to a free table. "All they would tell us was that you'd had an accident and had been taken to St Mungo's."

Connor sat down and told them his prepared story. "There's not much to tell. I left you all in Hogsmeade, and by the time I got back to the castle my head was killing me. I saw McGonagall and had a vision about her getting hit by some falling icicles, and apparently the vision was the last straw. After I warned her, I just passed out. My brain got all weird and decided to try to shut itself down because of all of the stuff trying to get into my head."

"Oh, my goodness!" Ivy said, holding a hand over her mouth in shock. "What did they do?"

"McGonagall was right there, and Snape happened to be nearby, so they got me to the hospital wing, and then sent me on to St Mungo's, just to make sure I was okay," Connor said, mostly truthfully. "I pretty much slept the whole time."

"You were gone for almost six days!" Quentin said.

"Yeah," Connor said with a shrug. "Like I said: my _brain_ tried to _shut down_. I guess that takes a while to recover from."

"But you're all right now?" Zack asked worriedly.

"Yes," Connor said. "But I'm going to have to take Occlumency lessons again. When I was at St Mungo's, they said I need to learn how to Occlude all the time, and not just build up walls in my mind and then wait for them to crumble before building them up again."

"So is your Occlumency teacher going to be coming here?" Rachel asked.

"No," Connor said, still feeling disappointed over it. "Clive is under contract for another six months where he's teaching now. Professor Snape recommended Professor Lyra for my new Occlumency teacher."

"The Divination professor?" Rachel asked.

"That's her," Connor confirmed. "She's supposed to be a really good Occlumens. Being a seer and all, she kind of needs to be, I guess."

"Is that all?" Rachel asked shrewdly.

"Pretty much," Connor said. "I'll have to go and see Madam Cosgrove a couple of times a week to get checked over for a while. My parents were pretty shaken up by what happened and want her to make sure it won't happen again."

"I'm glad you're back, mate," Zack said, and everyone else nodded.

"Me too," Connor said with a smile. "So, tell me what's been going on while I was gone."

Seemingly satisfied with Connor's account of his absence, Ivy, Rachel, Quentin and Zack filled Connor in on what he had missed in classes and gossip for the past few days.

"Oh!" Rachel said happily. "Ivy's going to the ball!"

"Who're you going with?" Connor asked curiously.

Circe leapt up onto the table and greeted Connor with a meow and by butting his hands with her head, demanding to be petted.

"Aiden," Quentin answered before Ivy could. He reached across the table to scratch Circe's ears, and grinned at Ivy's scowl. "He asked her yesterday after he broke up with Christa Belmuth."

"Why'd they break up?" Connor asked, surprised. He hadn't forgotten catching them in the greenhouses, kissing. Connor kind of thought that if Ivy and Rachel's merciless teasing hadn't scared Aiden off, nothing would. But then, Aiden never took teasing very seriously, anyway.

"Dunno," Ivy said. "He just asked if I wanted to go, because he thought we could have fun without me getting any _wrong ideas_."

"That's nice," Rachel said sarcastically.

"I don't mind," Ivy said. "At least I'll get the chance to go."

"What about you, Rachel?" Connor asked.

"Oh, yes, Connor," Rachel answered mockingly. "There are _so_ many boys above fourth year just dying to ask out a second year girl."

"Why not?" Connor asked. "You're pretty enough, and you can dance."

Rachel looked pleased by this, though she merely answered, "You're not really that clueless, are you? You're saying that because you're my cousin, right?"

"Whatever," Connor said with a sigh. He just didn't understand girls, and it was no use trying.

"Zack's going, too," Quentin volunteered, "with Victoria."

"You fancy Victoria?" Connor asked Zack with surprise.

"No," Zack said, blushing. "She 's trying to make some Ravenclaw bloke jealous. She asked me as a favour."

"You're nuts," Connor proclaimed, "both of you. What about you, Quentin?"

"Nope!" he answered cheerfully. "Not going."

"So what's with the dance lessons?" Connor asked with a smirk.

"Hey, they asked to learn, and offered to _pay_," Zack said in his defence.

"How much?" Connor demanded.

"Each of them is giving us a galleon," Zack said. "We reckon there's about twenty who want to learn. We've been trying to convince more of the girls to join in, but so far, only a few are willing. We've still got a couple of weeks, though."

Connor finally began to tire, and Rachel demanded that he go to bed so that he'd be rested for classes in the morning.

It was nice to be back in his own bed, and Connor did his Occlumency and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

The next day after Divination, Professor Lyra held Connor back and told him that their first lesson would be at eight o'clock that evening. She told him to bring the Animus Orb with him and not to practice any Occlumency for the rest of the day if he could help it.

In Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor Lupin was absent. Connor realised that the previous night had been a full moon, though Ms. Grayson insisted that Professor Lupin was abroad for the rest of the week. Ms. Grayson said that she was glad to have Connor back in class, and then gave him the assignments he had missed on Monday and Wednesday. Fortunately for Connor, today's class was little more than a revision of the material they had covered earlier that week, so all he had to do was to take notes.

At lunchtime, Connor caught sight of Rupert. Wondering if the Slytherin boy had been punished at all for being in Hogsmeade the previous Saturday, Connor was surprised to find that he didn't really care all that much anymore. What difference did Rupert's stupid stunts make to Connor now that he had so many other things to deal with?

Connor finished out his school day with Transfiguration. He had fallen behind again in his absence, and cringed at the length of the essay that had been assigned on Tuesday, in addition to the chapter summaries that were assigned today. Maybe Quentin would take pity on him, and help him make up the work.

It was going to take him a couple of days to get caught up, and that was on top of lessons with Professor Lyra and Madam Cosgrove.

"Hey, Connor," Whitney said when she spotted him the common room after classes. "Are you going to be able to join us for Quidditch practice tonight?"

Connor tried not to groan as he mentally kissed his weekend goodbye.

At eight o'clock that evening, Connor hurried up the stairs to the Divination tower, still wearing his Quidditch robes, groping through his bag for the Animus Orb. Whitney had not been pleased that he'd had to leave practice early and had made him promise to try to arrange a better time for his extra lessons.

He arrived for his lesson out of breath and knocked on Professor Lyra's office door, not really sure what to expect.

"Come in, Connor," Professor Lyra called.

Connor pushed open the door with an apology ready on his lips, but stopped when he saw his professor. She was sat cross-legged on the floor with a silver plate of smoking herbs in front of her. Sniffing the air experimentally, Connor decided that she was burning sage and mallow sweet. She wore her normal teaching robes, but her feet were bare, her hair down, hanging like a dark curtain down her back.

"Have a seat," Professor Lyra said with a gesture when Connor stepped inside.

Connor didn't see any chairs nearby, so he sat down on the floor across from her with the plate of smouldering sage between them.

"Quidditch?" she asked once he was settled.

"Yes," Connor said, catching his breath. "I had to leave practice early to make it here in time."

Professor Lyra lifted an eyebrow as if to say that he _wasn't_ on time, but simply nodded and asked, "Did you bring your Animus Orb with you?"

Connor produced the orb and handed it over to her.

"I haven't had much time," Professor Lyra said as she watched the orb turn blank and then begin to fill with smoke, "to really give a lot of thought to how we're going to proceed."

Connor didn't know if he was supposed to offer suggestions, or just sit there while she thought about it.

"Professor Snape had some suggestions, but his style of teaching is a bit more…forceful than mine," Professor Lyra said. "I know that you've studied with Clive Sharpe, so why don't we start off with you telling me what you already know about Occlumency?"

"Well he started off by having me do breathing exercises," Connor began. He went through everything he could remember about what Clive had taught him of the theory behind Occlumency and how he had chosen the sky as a focal point and used visualisation to help him clear his mind.

"Clive, that is to say, Mr. Sharpeis a good teacher, and you seem to understand the basics of Occlumency very well," Professor Lyra acknowledged. "However, he only taught you the basics, because that was all that you appeared to need at the time. I believe that your parents were hoping that your lack of success in controlling the sudden increase in your visions was something of a temporary matter that would resolve itself as your mind learned focus and gained strength."

"But it's not," Connor said, understanding what she was saying, but curious as to how much more there was to know about Occlumency.

"No," she confirmed. "I'm sorry, but in light of the recent discoveries about your talents, I can only envision things getting worse unless we get them under control as quickly as possible."

"How do we do that?" Connor asked, eager to start.

"The first thing I think you need to do," she said, "is to lose your temporal focus as it relates to your Occlumency."

"Lose my what?" Connor asked, completely confused.

"Your temporal focus," she repeated calmly. "You are too focused on the _time_ surrounding your Occlumency."

"What does that mean?" Connor asked feeling increasingly confused.

"You practice your Occlumency every morning before classes, correct?" she asked.

Connor nodded.

"On a normal day, without any distractions," Professor Lyra asked, "about what time would you feel the need to renew your Occlumency practice?"

"About four o'clock," Connor answered. "On a good day."

Professor Lyra nodded. "You see? You've trained your mind to hold out until the end of classes each day, at which point it needs a rest. By practicing so often, you're telling your mind that you don't need those shield _at all times_."

Connor only vaguely understood what she was saying, but dutifully paid close attention. He knew that she was trying to help him in the best way the she knew how. "So what should I be doing about it?"

"Ideally, your mind would have adjusted to the amount of students and mental distractions around Hogwarts within a couple of months," Professor Lyra said thoughtfully. "You might liken it to building up a resistance to it. Your mind would have eventually been able to lengthen the time between Occlumency practices until you weren't even conscious that you were Occluding constantly."

"But that didn't happen," Connor observed.

"No," she agreed, "but I'm sure that's what Mr. Sharpe had in mind by the time your lessons with him were over. He really didn't have sufficient time to teach you everything you needed to know, but it probably would have been adequate if the problem had simply been blocking out precognitive visions."

"But it's more than that," Connor said, finally understanding. "I can't build up a resistance to all of the distractions because my healing talents are growing stronger."

"Yes," Professor Lyra said, staring into the smoke from the still-smouldering sage for a moment. "So, the main things we must teach you are to Occlude constantly, as a second nature, and to strengthen your defences against outside forces."

"Okay," Connor said. "What do I need to do?"

"First of all, we're going to have to break your habit of Occluding in the middle of the day," she said with a sound of grim determination in her voice. "It will probably give you no end of headaches for the first few days, but it has to be done."

"But," Connor began, feeling the first pangs of panic skate up and down his spine, "what if I get overwhelmed?"

"You might," she said bluntly. "I'm going to recommend to Professor McGonagall that you be excused from dining in the Great Hall for the next week, or that you only take your meals there when there are a minimum of students present. The fewer people there are in close proximity to you, the fewer distractions you'll have to deal with."

"I can't eat with my friends?" Connor asked with disbelief.

"Not until we've got you past the stage where you need afternoon Occlumency," she answered firmly. "We're going to force your mind to toughen up a bit, and you can't afford to be using crutches like mid-afternoon Occlumency and your Animus Orb."

Professor Lyra held up the orb that was still in her hand, to show Connor that it was now in her possession, then dropped it into the pocket of her robes.

"But what if I" Connor began, feeling slightly sick. He wasn't at all sure he trusted Professor Lyra now that he had heard her plan for him. She didn't seem to be overly concerned with his personal comfort or feelings.

"Also," she said over his protest, "I intend to send a message to each of your Professors saying that due to your recent stay in St. Mungo's you will need to leave each class five minutes early, so that you are not exposed to all of the distractions in the crowded corridors. I don't want you to have to deal with any groups larger than the size of an average class."

"I thought that this was all supposed to be a secret," Connor said sulkily.

"And it will be," Professor Lyra said, sounding unmoved by his petulant attitude. "No one will question the need to isolate yourself a bit after suffering an injury due to your precognition. There's no reason for anyone to suspect that it has anything at all to do with a healing ability. Why would they?"

"But," Connor said, "what do I do if I run into problems at other times?"

"Well, I don't want you to injure yourself again, Connor," she said. "That's why I want you to go to such lengths right now to avoid being in large groups. The less strain on your mental defences, the better. If you have serious problems, then ask to go to the hospital wing, and get a calming draught. I want you to try to avoid doing Occlumency at all during the day—just in the morning before class, and at night before bed."

"Then what?" Connor asked, not liking what he was hearing, but seeing the logic in her plan.

"Once you're okay without your mid-day Occlumency, then we'll work on eliminating your night time practice as well," she said simply. "And after that, we'll tackle the morning practice session as well, until you're strong enough to Occlude constantly. That is still months away, though."

"Are you sure this will work?" Connor asked sceptically.

"As sure as I can be," she said. "I've never worked with anyone of your talents before. In fact, I've never tried to teach Occlumency before."

"So, what about my Animus Orb?" Connor asked. "Will I ever get it back?"

"I think so, yes," she said confidently. "Only instead of using it as a crutch, you'll end up using it as a kind of emotional barometer, to gauge how your mental defences are holding up. There will be times where you will need to fortify your mental defences, if I'm not mistaken. When you learn to use your healing gift, you are most likely going to need to lower your mental defences to let that magic take over, and then you'll have to build them back up afterward."

Connor said nothing. He had a lot of thoughts swirling around in his head at the moment, and found himself gazing unseeingly at the curls and tendrils of smoke drifting up lazily from the plate between them.

"It's getting late," Professor Lyra said, looking at her watch. "I'd like you to go through your Occlumency with me before you head back to Gryffindor Tower. I'd like to observe your technique."

Connor nodded. It was almost as if her announcement that it was getting late triggered a response in him that made him immediately sleepy.

Professor Lyra smiled at him and said, "Whenever you're ready, Connor."

"But what about your wand?" Connor asked when he didn't see one in evidence.

"I don't need one to follow along with you," she said matter-of-factly. "As long as you don't fight my presence in your mind too strongly, all I'll need to do is lower my own defences and seek you, or your mind, out. I would only ever do this with your permission," she added, seeming to sense Connor's alarm.

Connor finally nodded his assent and saw that Professor Lyra had closed her eyes and seemed to be waiting for him. He closed his eyes and started.

When Connor opened his eyes next, the first thing he saw was Professor Lyra beaming at him. "Excellent work. You've got a fairly well organized mind, and that will be helpful to you as we go along."

Connor wasn't sure why he felt a blush heating his cheeks, but fought it down and said, "Thanks, I guess."

"There's a lot I could teach you about the precognitive side of your abilities, Connor," Professor Lyra said. "Perhaps once you have your Occlumency mastered, you'll want to explore some other avenues."

Connor wasn't sure what to say to that, but he sensed that he was free to go. He stood up and grabbed his bag. "Thank you for the lesson, Professor," he said politely.

"You're welcome, Connor," she answered with real warmth, surprising him after her earlier pragmatic attitude. "I'll want to see you here again briefly tomorrow night to hear about your first day without mid-day Occlumency. I'll leave it up to you whether or not you'd like to take your breakfast early, before the other students are up, or if you'd like for Professor McGonagall to arrange for the House Elves to send something to you in your dorm or common room."

"For the weekend," Connor said after a moment's consideration, "I'll make plans to eat when there's not a lot of people around."

"That's good enough for now," Professor Lyra said. "Remember that you're not to be around large groups of people. If your common room even gets crowded, you should retreat to your room or the library or someplace less populated."

"I will," Connor promised as she walked him to the door of her office.

"And under _no_ circumstance are you to allow yourself to be near obviously ill or injured people," she said sternly.

He assured her again that he would be very careful, and went back to Gryffindor Tower thinking over everything that he and Professor Lyra had discussed.

It was ten o'clock by the time he gave the Fat Lady the password and climbed through the portrait hole.

No sooner had he gotten inside the common room, than Whitney was striding forward asking, "Did you tell her that you had to leave Quidditch early?"

"I told her, but she didn't say anything about it," Connor admitted. He didn't want to tell his captain that he'd forgotten to ask Professor Lyra if they could meet at a more convenient time. "I have to go again tomorrow night, so I'll ask her about changing times then."

"See that you do," Whitney said before stalking off.

"How'd it go?" Rachel asked when Connor dropped wearily into a chair at her table. Quentin, Ivy and Zack were sitting there too, and looked up from their schoolwork with interested expressions.

"All right, I reckon," Connor said. "I just won't be able to eat my meals in the Great Hall for a week or so, and I get to leave my classes early, too." He explained how Professor Lyra planned to train him to Occlude, glad that he could tell them _something_ of all of the extraordinary things going on with him lately.

"You look tired, Con," Rachel said, using the nickname she only used when she was really worried about him. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I am tired," Connor said. "You'd think sleeping for four or five days would be enough."

"Don't even joke about that!" Rachel scolded him. "Why don't you go take a shower and turn in?"

"That sounds like the best plan I've heard all day," Connor said, yawning widely. He grabbed his bag from the floor, and headed up the stairs.

0

"So, Zack," Connor said with a mouth full of scrambled eggs, "do you think your parents will let you come to my place for Christmas again this year?"

Connor, Zack and Quentin had woken late on Saturday morning, and had decided to eat their breakfast in the Hogwarts kitchens.

Professor McGonagall had given special permission when she heard about Professor Lyra's plan for Connor's lessons. She had only pursed her lips a little when she learned that they already knew where the entrance to the kitchens was.

"No," Zack said, sounding disappointed. "My parents have decided we're going on a cruise for Christmas."

"What's a cruise?" Quentin asked curiously.

"It's a holiday on a big ship," Zack said. "My mum says it's almost like a floating city with lots of restaurants, shops, swimming pools and the like."

"On a boat?" Connor asked with a chuckle. The idea seemed strange to him. "You already live in a city, why bother going to one that could sink?"

Zack laughed and tried to explain about seeing different Mediterranean ports and visiting a warmer climate for a while, but Connor and Quentin refused to see the point in it.

Finally, Connor gave up trying to fathom what Muggles would want to float around on the ocean for and excused himself to go to see Madam Cosgrove for a "check up".

When he approached the hospital wing, however, he was met by Professor Snape.

"I'm afraid it's an inconvenient time for you to visit the hospital wing, Mr Potter," he said. "Madam Cosgrove is currently treating an injured student. I was asked to meet with you, instead."

Connor realized that the staff must have been informed of Professor Lyra's orders for him not to come into contact with anyone with injuries. Snape was obviously doing his part to see that he followed orders.

"Yes, sir," Connor said.

"My office, then," Snape directed. He turned on his heel and led the way, not looking back to see if Connor was following.

Connor hurried along behind Snape and followed him down to the dungeons, neither of them speaking, until they arrived at Snape's office. Connor took the chair that Snape pointed to and waited to see what Snape would have to say.

"You will need to read this," Professor Snape said without preamble. He sat down behind his desk, and slid a book across to Connor.

"_A History of Magic in America_," Connor read from the cover. "Why?"

"The cover is simply to misdirect anyone who might observe you reading this book," Snape said. "Inside you will find a basic guide to healing charms, including incantations, wand technique, and theory. You will _not_ be so foolish as to attempt anything you read without direct supervision and permission."

"Yes, sir," Connor said, opening the book to a random page and glancing at the moving illustrations.

"Madam Cosgrove will be questioning you on the first chapter on Tuesday, so be prepared," Snape advised. "You will not waste anyone's time by not doing your absolute best in your extra lessons."

"I understand, sir," Connor agreed warily.

"You will be joining your new Potions class in one week's time," Snape continued. "You will be joining the advanced fourth year students, so I expect you to be prepared and up to speed when you do. I will not tolerate excuses. Their current assignment is a sixteen-inch essay on the uses of a Bezoar as it pertains to potion making. You will find the information you need in chapter thirty-one of your text book, and be ready to hand in the assignment with the rest of your new classmates next Monday."

"Does that mean I am excused from any further homework assignments in my current Potions class?" Connor asked hopefully.

"As everyone has gone to great lengths to assure me," Snape said silkily, "you are both bright and capable. You will do any assignments I assign the third year class until you are formally switched to the fourth year class."

"Yes, sir," Connor answered unenthusiastically. Arguing would only earn him scorn and lose Gryffindor points. "When does the fourth year class meet?"

"Your schedule will be modified beginning next Monday," Snape said, handing a new schedule card over to Connor. "Advanced fourth year Potions meets on Mondays and Wednesdays at the time you would normally have attended Care of Magical Creatures class. You will now take Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherin/Hufflepuff class at the time you used to have Potions."

Connor stared down at his new schedule gloomily, but didn't protest.

"You will also, as time permits, have extra lessons with me regarding the concoction of various healing potions," Snape said. "But those will wait until you have had time to adjust to your new schedule."

Connor was beginning to wonder if he would ever have any free time again.

"I would suggest you get started, Mr Potter," Snape said by way of dismissal. "You have a lot of homework to catch up on."

With a sigh, Connor picked up his new book and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

(TBC)

**A/N - As usual, check my LJ (link in the author page) for responses to reviews - also, last Monday I posted an outtake about the origin of Snowball as compensation for not posting a new chapter. Those of you who don't visit my LJ might want to check it out. I think I saved it in my memories.**


	17. Chapter 17 Making It Work

**Chapter 17 – Making it Work**

"Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice; it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." – William Jennings Bryan

The next few days were frustrating for Connor as he struggled to catch up on his homework _and _attend extra lessons with Professor Lyra and Madam Cosgrove.

His lessons with the matron were generally short, and consisted of asking him questions about the reading. She didn't want to allow him try any healing charms until she was sure he knew all the theory behind them. Connor found his studies about healing interesting, but was bored with the constant repetition of questions.

"Perhaps after the holidays," she told him, when his frustration became obvious. "Something small, like a paper cut."

"At least that's something to look forward to, then," Connor said.

Professor Lyra had not been joking when she suggested that Connor might experience headaches for the first few days of going without his afternoon Occlumency. Connor learned to hide in his room, grit his teeth and focus on his homework while willing his mind to hold it's defences steady.

Madam Cosgrove had offered him a pain-relief potion, but both Professor Lyra and Professor Snape had advised him not to take it unless the pain was truly unbearable, since the whole point of the exercise was to strengthen his mind. After a few days, the headaches began to subside, becoming more tolerable.

Professor Lyra wanted Connor to use the holiday break to work on eliminating the need to Occlude before going to bed. Connor felt confident that this would pose little challenge, because there would only be a handful of people around to distract him, except for family gatherings with the Weasleys.

His sessions with Professor Lyra became more interesting as he got to know her a little better. He learned that she wasn't really as stiffly formal as she had seemed at first, and that she had a subtle sense of humour. Connor mentally filed away the small personal facts that she shared about herself from time to time, and began to see the 'whole picture' as he fit the pieces all together.

Apparently Professor Lyra's mother had discovered her daughter's Seer abilities when she was nine years old, when she had predicted that her Grandmother was destined to _die falling from a great height_. A year later, the woman in question had fallen from her broomstick while over a deep gorge and subsequently died. After that she began to make small predictions with regularity, and Professor Lyra's parents had thus decided against letting their daughter attend Hogwarts. They opted to home-school her, instead, with the use of private tutors. Connor also learned that she had travelled extensively when she was in her teens, and had worked briefly making prophecies for those who sought her out.

"You would be amazed at the lengths people will go to for a glimpse of their future," she'd told Connor during one lesson. "And they are often disappointed by what they learn."

The practice had been profitable, but ultimately not very satisfying. Now, though, she apparently didn't try to make prophecies upon demand as she once had. Connor wasn't sure how she used her gift now that she taught at Hogwarts.

Potions was another matter all together. Connor's friends had been nothing short of amazed by his sudden promotion to a fourth year Advanced Potions class, but didn't question that he was gifted enough to qualify. If anyone found it strange that Snape was permitting a student's advancement in such a way for the first time in history, Connor never heard any complaints.

When Connor received back his first piece of homework from his new Potions class, Snape simply said, "I'll expect better from you in the future," and handed him his essay with a large red 'eighty percent' at the top.

Connor stared at his grade with mixed feelings. On one hand, he wasn't used to receiving anything less than a ninety on his Potions papers, and that was when he was only half-trying. On the other hand, he appeared to have received one of the highest grades in the class. A quick scan of the other students' papers told Connor he'd landed himself in a very difficult class. He'd have to work extra hard to satisfy Snape. Luckily, he had been able to produce an acceptable Clarifying Potion during his first practical lesson with his new class. In practical lessons, at least, Connor felt he could hold his own.

0

The day of the Yule Ball came the day before the end of term, and was also the first day that Connor was allowed to rejoin his classmates for meals in the Great Hall. He suspected that Professor Lyra had worked it out that way, in case he had problems once he was back in the general population. If something went wrong, and he was overwhelmed, the other students would have a couple of weeks during he holiday to forget about it, and Connor would be able to use that time to improve his mental shields.

He was relieved to find that being around a larger number of students didn't seem to be bothering him, though, even with the excited chatter going on.

Students who weren't discussing the ball were busy talking about their plans for the holidays. Zack was still trying to explain the concept of ocean cruises to Quentin.

Connor listened with half an ear while he piled his plate high with food.

"Why in the name of Merlin would they put a swimming pool on a boat?" Quentin demanded. "It's right there on the ocean!"

"But the ship is huge, Quint!" Zack tried to explain. "And travelling very fast."

"I still don't get it…."

The post arrived; most of the parcels landed into the laps of excited-looking girls.

"If my mother didn't send the robes I asked for, I don't know what I'm going to do," Desiree Martin said fretfully as an owl dropped a package onto her empty plate. "It's too late to get new ones, now!"

"My mum sent mine two days ago," Ivy said quietly to Connor, "and they're _pink_."

"Oh no!" Desiree wailed as she opened the package. "These aren't the robes I told her I wanted. These will look dreadful on me!"

Connor smirked as he looked over at the shimmering brown and gold fabric in the reserve Chaser's hands. "It would look nice on Ivy," he said with an innocent air, looking pointedly at Ivy. "Maybe you two should trade robes."

Ivy's mouth hung open in disbelief for a moment before she burst out laughing. "How do you feel about pink, Desiree?" she asked the crestfallen girl.

"Really?" Desiree sniffed, obviously fighting back tears. "You'd trade with me?"

"Why don't we go back to the common room and see?" Ivy suggested, getting to her feet. "We look about the same size, and I bet pink will look great on you—your hair's pretty dark."

"What was all that about?" Rachel asked in bewilderment as she watched Ivy and Desiree depart.

"Nothing," Connor said, returning to his meal.

"What are we going to do while everyone is at the ball?" Quentin asked.

"I have to finish packing," Connor said gloomily. "I've been so busy trying to get caught up in class and keep up with Potions, that still haven't gotten around to it." He looked glumly down at his plate and pushed his eggs around with is fork. "I still have an essay to finish for Charms, a chapter summary for Transfiguration, and a list of native magical plants and herbs used in healing potions, too. I'll probably be busy right up until we leave tomorrow."

The last assignment that he mentioned was an extra one especially for him. Snape hadn't been clear on whether he would earn extra credit for it.

"I heard that McGonagall is having the house elves bring food up for everyone not going to the ball, so all of the houses can have their own parties in their common rooms," Jarod said as he sat down and grabbed a thick piece of bread and began to butter it. "Me and Patrick are going to sneak out by the lake and set off some fireworks, too. You should come out with us, Connor. It'll be fun."

"I'll think about it," Connor said noncommittally.

Conversation flowed around Connor; he enjoyed being back in the middle of things again. He didn't have any lessons with Madam Cosgrove or Professor Lyra again until after the holidays, and he was hoping to get a large portion of his holiday homework completed before getting home. He wanted to have the whole holiday to himself, with nothing school-related to work on, if he could help it.

"I'm going to go to the library to try out that charm to find some books," Rachel announced once they were finished eating. "Do you want to come, Connor? You won't get any quiet time to work in the common room today."

"Sure," Connor nodded. "I just need to run up and grab my books and stuff."

0

Twenty minutes later, Connor was seated at a table in the back of the library with Rachel and Quentin, who were going over the charm they wanted to try to help them find books checked out by the Marauders. To avoid attracting Madam Pince's attention, they were working out which area they wanted to delimit.

Connor offered to act as a distraction by asking Madam Pince to help him find books on magical plants native to England. Considering the fact the woman made Connor uneasy with her vulture-like appearance and sharp tongue, he felt this was quite a contribution on his part.

He waited until Rachel and Quentin had disappeared into the area of the library furthest from the Herbology section, and then went up to the front desk where Madam Pince sat reading.

"Ah, Mr Potter," she said when she saw him. "I was just about to send you an owl, asking you to come see me before you left for the holiday."

"You were?" Connor was taken aback. He knew that the librarian knew who he was, of course, but she was never very friendly to him unless Ivy was with him.

"Yes," she said, getting slowly to her feet and opening a drawer. "Professor Snape was in here earlier and asked me to find this book and see the you got it before tomorrow."

She handed him a slim leather-bound volume of obvious age, with no identifying marks on the outside at all. He flipped open the cover and found the title page: _The Healing Crafte_ by Wilhemina Goodewell.

"Thank you," Connor said automatically. He pocketed the book, and hoped that she wouldn't question why the professor wanted him to have it.

"You're welcome," she answered with a nod. "Sign here, please."

She stabbed a bony finger at a form that read _Restricted Section Withdrawal_ and already bore Professor Snape's signature on it. Connor signed his name as well, trying not to seem surprised that he was being given use of a restricted book.

"Professor Snape assures me that allowing you to remove this book from school grounds is not a mistake," Madam Pince said in a tone that clearly said, _Don't prove him wrong._

"I understand," Connor answered timidly. "Er, I was wondering if you could show me where I could find books about magical plants native to England?"

"Certainly," she said in a clipped tone.

She moved out from behind her desk and began to lead him into the stacks. Suddenly, there was a rumble and a shriek, followed by the sound of books falling from the other side of the library.

Connor took off at a run in the direction he'd seen Rachel and Quentin going, with Madam Pince right behind him. He would never have guessed that the old woman could move that fast.

"My books!" Madam Pince whispered in horror when she saw the cause of the noise.

"Rachel! Quentin! Are you all right?" Connor asked as he carefully waded into the books strewn everywhere. He was careful not to step on any of them as he went to help his friends to their feet.

"Explain yourselves!" Madam Pince demanded furiously, as Rachel and Quentin extracted themselves from the avalanche of literature.

"I don't know what happened," Quentin said, rubbing his forehead, where a spectacular bruise was forming. "We were looking for some books, when they all just suddenly jumped off the shelves and landed on us!"

Connor closed his hands into fists as they began to itch and tingle.

"I think maybe someone tried to hex us," Rachel said, holding her arm. "These poor books!"

Madam Pince visibly softened at Rachel's choice of words. "Yes. Well, are the two of you injured?"

"I'm not sure," Rachel said shakily. "My arm hurts."

Connor could tell that she wasn't kidding. Her expression was pained, and she had a long scrape down one cheek.

"I hurt all over," Quentin said with a wince as he discovered that his nose was beginning to bleed.

"Well, then, up to the hospital wing with both of you to be looked over," Madam Pince said.

"We'll come back to help re-shelf the books once Madam Cosgrove fixes us," Rachel said.

"Don't you worry about that," Madam Pince said brusquely. "Go on, now."

Quentin didn't need to be told twice, and led the way out of the library.

Connor knew that he wouldn't be allowed to go with them. As soon as Madam Cosgrove saw him, she would just shoo him back out again. Luckily, Madam Pince saved him having to make an excuse.

"Right, then, Mr Potter," she said, back ramrod straight and nostrils flaring. "I'll just show you where to find your books, and then I'll get started here."

"Would you like me to help you?" Connor offered, feeling slightly guilty.

"No, no!" Madam Pince said. "I'm going to need to check over each one to make sure there's no damage before I replace them on the shelves. If I find out who dared…"

Connor nodded warily as her lips thinned in anger, and followed her to the Herbology section.

0

Connor was still in the library an hour later, halfway through the Potions essay, when Rachel and Quentin returned, completely healed.

"How did Madam Pince take it?" Rachel whispered as she sat down across from Connor.

"All right, I suppose," Connor said. "I offered to help her clean up the books, but she wouldn't let me. What happened, anyway?"

"We think that we made the terms of the spell too broad," Quentin said. "We need to be more specific about what we ask for, I reckon. We're going to ask Zack about it when we see him. He's the best one of us at Charms."

"I can't believe that they all shot out at us like that," Rachel groaned. "I was so sure we had it right."

"We'll figure it out sooner or later," Quentin assured her. "I'm going back to the tower to finish packing."

"I'm going to offer to help Madam Pince again," Rachel said, clearly feeling guilty about being the cause of the elderly woman's extra work.

Connor watched them go and returned to his work.

0

Two hours after lunch, Connor went back to Gryffindor tower to find last minute dance lessons going on, the younger years looking on with interest.

There were girls painting each other's fingernails and toenails in one corner of the crowded common room and a cluster of whispering and giggling girls in another. There was talk of hair curling charms and make-up application. Connor felt distinctly out of his depth, and especially uneasy when he heard a Muggle born girl talking about something called a curling iron. Why anyone would want to stick a metal rod heated by electricity into their hair was a mystery that he didn't particularly want to have solved.

"I'll be in our room," Connor said decisively to Zack and Quentin, who were trying to concentrate on a game of chess in front of the fire. "I'm starting to get a headache."

"I thought you weren't supposed to Occlude in the afternoons anymore," Quentin said with a hint of concern.

"It's not that kind of headache," Connor said, pointed nodding toward the girls with the nail polish.

"Coward," Quentin said with a chuckle. "You should see what Vanessa gets up to when she has friends over."

"I hope I never have to find out," Connor said with an exaggerated shiver. "See you later."

Connor escaped to his room and flopped down on the bed, only noticing Andrew Tillman when the other boy spoke. "Going to the ball, Potter?"

"Merlin, no!" Connor said with an amused laugh. "You?"

"Yes," Andrew said, taking a set of nice deep red robes out of his wardrobe and pulling his wand. "Jenny Merchant, from Hufflepuff, asked me last week."

"I don't think I know who she is," Connor said, trying to picture her.

"She's a fourth year," Andrew said, trying to work a charm to take the wrinkles from his robes. "She's reserve Chaser for Hufflepuff."

Connor got a vague image of a petite brunette, but nothing more. "Well, I hope you have a good time."

Andrew nodded and, deciding that the robes were beyond his ability to unwrinkle, said something about asking one of the girls downstairs to help him. He left the room, and Connor lay back on his bed to relax for a few minutes.

He didn't expect to fall asleep, but the next thing he knew, his room was full of people who were making a lot of noise.

A glance at his watch told him that it was already almost seven o'clock.

"What's going on?" he asked groggily to the room in general.

"Sorry, Connor," Ivy said, sitting on the edge of his bed as he sat up. "We didn't mean to wake you."

"What are all these girls doing it here?" Connor asked, seeing Victoria, along with several of her roommates gathered around Zack, who was sitting in a chair while they styled his hair.

"They're fussing over Zack," Ivy sighed. "They want him to look extra nice so that Victoria can make Richard McCaughy jealous. She's been flirting with him for weeks and he never asked her to the ball."

Connor rubbed his eyes, trying to work out the machinations of girls in general. "Did he ask someone else?" he asked, smirking as several girls added hair potions to Zack's hair. Quentin was sitting on his own bed laughing at the spectacle. "Maybe he had already asked someone, and _couldn't_ ask Tori."

"Nope," Ivy said. "Victoria had Marcus ask Richard who he was going with, and Richard said that he wasn't taking anyone."

"Maybe he's not going to the ball at all," Connor said logically.

"No, he's going, all right," Ivy answered. "He told Amanda yesterday that the girl he'd wanted to ask already had a date."

"Then why didn't Tori just ask him, instead, If she wanted to go with him so much?" Connor asked in confusion.

"You'd have to ask her," Ivy said absently, scowling slightly as she watched Zack.

"Whatever," Connor said, giving up. "How much longer is everyone going to be in here? I still need to get packed."

"Well, I've been waiting for Victoria to finish so she can help me with my hair. There's only an hour until the ball starts." Ivy said.

When Ivy said this, two of the girls gasped. One of them said, "It's that late already?" and they rushed from the room.

"You need an hour to get ready?" Connor asked incredulously.

"At least!" Ivy said earnestly. "I'd better go tear Victoria away from Zack. Honestly, he looks just fine!"

Within moments, Ivy had dragged Victoria from the room, along with the other two girls who were apparently there to offer advice and suggestions about Zack's appearance.

"Thank Merlin!" Quentin said, jumping off of his bed and attempting to ruffle Zack's neatly styled hair.

"Don't!" Connor said quickly, halting Quentin in his tracks even as Zack was trying to duck out of the way. "They'll just come back to fix it!"

"Good point," Quentin said, stepping away from Zack. "Besides, we wouldn't want to mess up his pretty little hair ribbon!"

"Sod off," Zack scowled. He got up to look self-consciously in the mirror and sighed with relief. "I was afraid I was going to look like some poncy git."

"No more so than usual," Connor said with a smirk, earning him a rude gesture in return. "I'm starved!"

"What else is new?" Zack asked, taking his shoes from his wardrobe and making sure they were neatly polished.

"Just go downstairs," Quentin said. "The common room's full of trays and platters."

"Yeah," said Zack, sounding a bit wistful, "it looks like there's going to be quite a party going on."

"I'm going down, then," Connor decided aloud. "You guys coming?"

"I might as well," Zack said. "It's only going to take me another ten minutes to get dressed, so that can wait."

"I'm coming," Quentin said. He hopped off of his bed, and led the way.

The common room had been rearranged in the time that Connor had been napping. Most of the tables were all shoved together to make one long buffet against the far wall. Chairs and sofas had been pushed to the edges of the room to make an open space in the centre of the room, where quite a few students were dancing to some old American wizarding rock on an ancient and battered phonograph player.

Connor grabbed a plate, filled it up with several different types of finger sandwiches and found a free seat near the portrait hole. Zack took a seat on the floor in front of Connor and nibbled on a handful of biscuits while Quentin chased off a first year in a chair beside Connor so that he could sit.

They ate in silence for a while until the edge was taken off of their hunger and watched the other kids dancing and chatting. A lot of older boys were standing around in their dress robes, waiting for their dates to finish getting ready, or killing time until it was late enough to go and meet girls from other houses in the entrance hall.

"What is this music?" Zack asked curiously. "It's like nothing I've ever heard before."

"Probably because it's old," Quentin said, "and American."

"It's an old band from about thirty years ago," Connor said. "They're called the Doxies and this song is called Gnomes and Kneazles."

"How do you know that?" Quentin asked.

"My grandmother has loads of old records at her house. She plays them all the time when she's cooking and stuff," Connor said with a shrug. "She says it makes the house seem less empty."

"Are you going over to her house for Christmas Eve again this year?" Zack asked.

Connor had invited Zack to spend the previous Christmas with his family and had introduced the Muggle-born boy to a lot of wizarding holiday customs.

"Of course," Connor said. "It's tradition. Shame you can't come again this year. I feel sorry that you're going to be stuck on a big boat."

"I'll survive," Zack said with a chuckle. "Muggles actually pay a lot of money to go on cruises. I'll bring back pictures to show you."

"Remember to save some of the film and get it developed the wizarding way," Quentin said. "If you don't, none of them will move!"

"My mum would get a big thrill out of having moving pictures from our holiday," Zack mused.

"Why not save them all to be developed here. Tim Nelson knows how," Connor suggested.

"Nah," Zack said, standing up and dusting the crumbs from his hands. "They've got to have some Muggle ones to show the neighbours. I'd better go get dressed."

"Don't mess up your hair!" Quentin called teasingly after him.

Zack ignored him.

"So, have you done your Christmas shopping yet?" Connor asked Quentin as the music switched to a slower song, and the floor all but emptied.

"No," Quentin said. "Still need to find something for Mother."

"I haven't found anything thing for Lucy," Connor mused. "Maybe we could meet and go to Diagon Alley for a few hours this week."

"Sounds good," Quentin said. "We should see if Ivy and Ra"

"Hey, Quentin," Rachel interrupted as she came down the girl's staircase, "why aren't you dancing?"

"Why? Are you in the mood to dance with me?" Quentin asked.

Rachel shrugged and made her way through a knot of first year boys playing Exploding Snap on the carpet by the stairs. She grabbed a biscuit from the buffet as she passed and bit into it.

"I just think that if you got up and asked someone to dance, other people would follow, and we could get this party started," she said after swallowing her mouthful. "I know Connor won't. He hates to dance."

"I've got to go up and get packed, anyway," Connor said, jumping to his feet, intending to make his escape.

He was halfway across the room when he saw Ivy coming down the stairs. She looked exactly like she had when he'd seen her in the vision during the last Hogsmeade trip. The robes she wore seemed to shift from shimmering brown to gold, depending on how the light hit it, and her hair was curled and twisted up into some sort of complicated knot on top of her head. "Wow, Ivy!" he said with a smile. "You look great!"

Ivy blushed and smiled. "Thank you!"

"Ivy!" Quentin said, his mouth hanging slightly open for a moment. "You look very, er, wow!"

"Thanks, Quint," Ivy said. "I'm a bit nervous, now that I think about it. I'm bound to be one of the youngest people there."

"Well, you don't look it," Rachel said admiringly. "That colour really suits you!"

Ivy turned in a circle to show them the full effect of her robes; when Aiden and Zack came down the steps at the same time and spotted her.

"You clean up decently enough," Aiden said, smiling in approval.

"Oh, that's just brilliant," Rachel said sarcastically. "It's a wonder the girls aren't all falling over you."

Ivy laughed in a way that said she didn't mind Aiden's comments at all and turned to survey Zack in his dress robes. His hair was still pulled back into a ponytail that fell just below his shoulders, and his high-collared, deep green robes made his hazel eyes stand out dramatically.

"You look very nice," Ivy told him appraisingly. "Richard will certainly be sorry he didn't ask Victoria when he had the chance. Now he'll think he's got real competition."

"You look beautiful," Zack said, sounding uncomfortable and fidgeting with his collar.

"Zack!" Victoria called down the steps. "I'll be just another couple of minutes."

"Er, all right" Zack answered back.

"Well, knowing Tori," Aiden said with a grin, "We'll see you in about an hour."

Zack sighed in resignation and sat down on the nearest chair to wait.

"Have a good time," Connor told Ivy and Aiden as they left the common room. He turned to the others. "I'm going to go pack."

0

When Connor returned to the common room almost two hours later, it was to find the food trays considerably emptier and the dance floor a lot more crowded.

He scanned the crowd for signs of Rachel and Quentin, but didn't see them right away. His cousin Patrick dancing with a pretty second year girl that Connor thought might be one of Rachel's dorm mates, but he couldn't think of her name. Jarod was dancing with Stella Anders, Gryffindor's reserve Seeker.

He finally spotted Quentin dancing with a first year girl. Quentin was patiently trying to teach her the steps to a waltz. Rachel was sitting across the room, apparently gossiping with some of her roommates. It took a moment to realize that Professor Lupin and Ms Grayson were ensconced in the far corner of the room, playing chess.

Connor walked around some dancing couples and stopped beside the board to see who was winning. He didn't speak, because he didn't want to break anyone's concentration.

After a few minutes, Professor Lupin made a move, then looked up to smile at Connor. "Hello, Connor."

"Hi," Connor said, watching as Ms Grayson countered his move. "What are you doing in here?"

"I was asked to chaperone in here since all of the Prefects are at the ball," he said easily. "Ms. Grayson graciously offered to keep me company. All packed?"

"Pretty much," Connor said. "I told Zack I'd look after Godric while he was on his cruise, so I've got to get one of the older guys to shrink down the cage for me so it'll fit in my trunk. Godric can fly to Potter Headquarters."

"Looking forward to going home?" Ms. Grayson asked kindly.

"Yes," Connor said. "I've even finished most of my homework so I don't have to worry about it."

"_Most_ of your homework?" Lupin asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Professor Snape assigned me some last minute reading," Connor said. "But that's no big deal."

"You've been working hard, lately," Lupin said conversationally. "I haven't had a chance to talk with you since you were in hospital. I'm sorry I was away; I would have been there for you."

"I know. It's not your fault."

"You know that you can come and talk to me any time you need to," Lupin said seriously. "As a professor or as an uncle."

"Yeah, I know," Connor said with a smile. He wasn't sure if Lupin knew about his healing ability and didn't want to risk saying anything he shouldn't in front of Ms Grayson, or any of the nearby students. "Where did you go this time?"

"The Carpathian mountains," he answered, moving a chessman to intercept one of Ms Grayson's pieces. "But it ended in disappointment, I'm afraid."

"Why have you been taking so many trips this year, Uncle Remus?" Connor asked curiously.

"Connor," Ms Grayson interrupted suddenly, "would you be a dear and see if there's any tea left over there?"

"It's all right, Elizabeth," Lupin said calmly. "Connor's family. There's no harm in his knowing."

"Knowing what?" Connor asked warily.

"I've been searching for an alternative to the Wolfsbane Potion," Lupin told him. "It appears that after all these years, its efficacy is beginning to wane, and my monthly transformations are becoming harder on my body."

At Connor's horrified expression, Ms Grayson rushed to console him. "Connor! It's not as bad as it sounds. Your uncle is still completely aware of himself during his transformations. His mind stays human. It's just the effects the transformations are having on his body; particularly his joints."

"But you're not going mad at the full moon or anything?" Connor asked with some measure of relief.

"No, not at all," Lupin assured him. "So I've been travelling to different places where Potions Masters believe they've made a breakthrough and offering myself as a test subject if the findings look promising."

"But what about Professor Snape? Isn't he supposed to be the most brilliant Potions Master in all of Britain?" Connor asked. "Can't he come up with something?"

"He's been trying," Lupin said. "How do you think I've been finding out where to go? Apparently this is becoming common among those who have been taking the Wolfsbane Potion since its inception. We apparently work up a tolerance for it, and increasing the dosage isn't an option, for various reasons. That means that there are bound to be more people working to solve the problem worldwide."

"Oh," Connor said. Then he remembered that one of his worst episodes with itching hands had been shortly after the full moon, in Defence Against the Dark Arts. It must have been his proximity to a still-healing Professor Lupin that had triggered the response.

"You don't need to worry about this," Lupin told Connor firmly. "Tomorrow you'll be going home, and we'll see each other at Christmas at the very least. We'll have time for a nice long talk then, if you still have questions. All right?"

Connor nodded, and smiled distractedly when Ms Grayson stood and squeezed his shoulder briefly when she passed to get herself some tea. Professor Lupin clapped him on the back affectionately and went to join her, and Connor made his way over to sit with Rachel.

Quentin was apparently very popular among the first year girls, and apparently didn't know how to turn them down when they asked him to dance with them. Connor watched with a gleeful smile as his friend steered a starry-eyed girl around the room. He'd be able to tease him about this for months.

"Oh! Don't they look sweet?" One of Rachel's friends sighed.

Connor looked up to see Professor Lupin dancing gracefully with Ms Grayson, showing off a little with some of his moves, and earning applause from the romantics looking on.

As the song ended, the clock struck eleven, and the portrait swung open to admit Zack and Ivy. Ivy's hair had fallen from its elegant knot, and Zack was sporting a black eye, but they were both laughing uproariously.

"What happened?" Ms Grayson demanded as soon as she spotted them.

"Well, that's a funny story," Ivy answered when she finally calmed down. "Aiden and Christa Belmuth made up at the ball, and so I offered to step out gracefully."

"And Richard McCaughy spent most of the evening fawning over Victoria and being as rude as possible to me," Zack added. "Which was pretty much the plan."

"The plan?" Lupin asked, carefully examining the boy's eye while Ms Grayson looked at Ivy's bruised knuckles.

"To make Richard jealous," Rachel answered. "Victoria's like him for ages, but he didn't ask her to the ball."

"So how did this all end with a black eye for Zack, and Ivy looking as though she's been in a fight?"

"I went to tell Zack that I was heading back here, and he asked me if I wanted to have a last dance first," Ivy explained.

"Victoria was off talking to some friends," Zack said, "so I didn't see the harm. We went out onto the dance floor, and suddenly Richard shows up and says that Victoria deserves better than me."

"He didn't!" Rachel said excitedly.

"He did," Ivy said mischievously.

"So, I decided to taunt him a little bit," Zack said with a smile, "and I told him that the better man had won."

Quentin laughed at this and said, "Brilliant!"

"Yes, well, it was until his punched me in the eye," Zack said with a rueful chuckle.

"That doesn't explain what happened to Ivy," Rachel said.

"I got so mad when he hit Zack, that _I_ hit _him_," Ivy said, and began to laugh again, which set Zack off again.

"Victoria ran to Richard, to see if he was all right, and McGonagall sent us back here," Zack said cheerfully. "I think we're in a fair bit of trouble."

"I would think so," Lupin answered shrewdly. "Professor McGonagall doesn't take kindly to fighting, especially at an even like the Yule Ball. I think you can count on detention when you get back from your holidays, at the very least."

Connor bit his lip as his hands itched and moved away from the cluster of people under the pretence of getting something to drink. Luckily, Ms Grayson volunteered to take Ivy and Zack to Madam Cosgrove, and Connor excused himself to go to bed. This would be the last night that he would be doing Occlumency, if he was lucky.


	18. Chapter 18 Decisions

**Chapter 18- Discoveries**

_Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved. Helen Keller_

The morning following the Yule Ball was a busy one. There were students scattered everywhere around the castle searching for last minute items to pack, dragging or levitating their trunks down to the Great hall, exchanging last minute Christmas gifts and generally acting excited about going home

McGonagall had called for Ivy and Zack and assigned them both three days' worth of detention after the holiday; she gave Richard McCaughy the same.

Connor thought it funny that Victoria was no longer speaking to Zack Instead, she spent her time with her new boyfriend, the ill-abused Richard, assuring him that it was completely unfair for him to get detention, too.

Eventually, though, Connor's turn to use the Floo came at four o'clock. Zack, Ivy and Quentin had left not long ago. He said goodbye to Rachel, stepped into the grate and was whisked away from Hogwarts.

"Here he comes!"

Connor could hear Adam's excited shout seconds before he stopped turningand stumbled from the fireplace. Dragging his trunk out behind him, he was greeted by his whole family, who were all smiling at him. He was home.

"Connor!" Adam said almost immediately as Connor was being hugged by Ginny. "Mum and Dobby made a huge dinner for when you got here, and there's chicken, and pie and treacle tart and _everything_! Dobby's been baking biscuits and tarts and cakes for days, but Mum wouldn't let any of us eat any until you got here, but now you're here, and we _can_!"

Connor laughed as Adam set Snowball on a nearby chair and grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the kitchen. "It's nice to see you, too," Connor said wryly. "Mum, you didn't have to starve them."

"Nonsense, they all had an early lunch. They're just exaggerating," Ginny said. "But go ahead and settle down at the table. Your dad or Dobby'll take your trunk up for you."

"Thanks, Mum." Connor said, taking his habitual chair. "This looks great!"

They sat down and began to eat, while Lucy and Ian peppered Connor with questions about school. His parents asked him how his new lessons were getting on, though Connor was pretty sure that they already knew.

"They're going all right," Connor said. "My schedule's a bit full, but I've been managing."

They talked for a long time after the food was gone, then Connor decided that he'd like to have an early night.

It was strange, being back in his own bed in his own quiet room. It was even stranger to skip his Occlumency before trying to settle into sleep. It had become a ritual for him, and now he found it hard to fall asleep without it.

Godric sat alert and wary on his perch by Connor's window, no doubt wondering about this sudden change in his living space.

"Zack will be back in couple of weeks," Connor assured the owl, getting up to put a few treats in his dish. "You'll have to put up with me until them."

Godric stared at Connor almost accusingly, then fluttered out of the charmed window into the freezing night.

Connor lay down again, and tried to relax, but found himself wide awake. Finally admitting that he needed a distraction until he was tired enough to fall asleep without Occluding, he dug through his trunk and got out the book that Professor Snape had asked Madam Pince to give him. He eventually fell asleep at the beginning of _Chapter Three – Intuitive Magic, Why Everyone Wants It, But Not Everyone Has It_.

0

By morning, Connor was glad to see the sunrise. He had thought that eliminating his evening Occlumency would be easy without the distraction of so many people around, but he'd been wrong.

Strange dreams had woken him several times, filling his mind with inconsequential facts about people he didn't even know. He finally gave up trying to sleep properly, and went down stairs in search of some breakfast after he practiced his Occlumency for the day.

"Aunt Hermione!" Connor said in surprise when he found her sitting at the kitchen table. "What are you doing here?"

"Good morning, Connor," she said with a cheerful smile. "I have an appointment this morning, but I wanted to drop off some books that I thought you might find interesting."

Connor sat down across from her; Dobby shortly appeared with a bowl of porridge and placed it in front of him.

Connor took a bite. "What kind of books?"

"Well, one of them is a Muggle book called _Gray's Anatomy_," Hermione answered, pulling a large text from that bag beside her chair and setting it on the table. "It's a book that shows all of the parts of the body and how they work in conjunction with one another. I thought that maybe if you knew how different body parts worked, it could theoretically help you to heal them more efficiently."

"Theoretically?" Connor asked, spooning up more porridge. The book she was suggesting that he read was huge, and he hoped that he wasn't going to be expected to memorise it.

"I thought it made sense that if you knew what all of the parts were and how they worked, your magic wouldn't have to work so hard to do it intuitively," Hermione explained.

"I guess that makes sense," Connor said, somewhat sceptically. "What about the other books?"

"Both of the others are very old wizarding books," she said, digging through her bag again and pulling out two slim volumes that had seen better days. "I've gone through and made notes in them here and there so that you're not learning anything wrong. There are some ideas about certain remedies and treatments that are frankly dangerous, and I didn't want you getting any wrong information, so I blacked out those parts."

Connor took the books that she slid across to him, and examined each. They were so old that the gold leaf that had once spelled out the titles of the books had been worn away.

He opened the first one, and read the title page: _A Guide to Practical Home Healing_. As he leafed through it, he saw a few woodcuts that showed witches or wizards using poultices or leeches on their patients along with description of how to treat common wizarding illnesses and injuries.

The second book was even slimmer, and the leather cover was cracked but recently mended. _Using Common Household Items To Cure What Ails You_ also featured pictures, and Connor made a face of disgust at a particularly vivid moving woodcut of a wizard vomiting. "Er, Aunt Hermione," Connor said. "Why are you giving these to me? I mean, I understand the anatomy one, but these others?"

"The whole point of the training that you're getting now is to keep you from using your newfound talents until you're in control of them," Hermione said seriously. "It makes sense to learn everything you can about healing in more conventional ways, so that you'll only use your talent as a last resort. You've experienced how much it takes out of you when you use them."

Connor nodded slowly, letting her words sink in. He spooned up more porridge, thinking about everything that he had to learn. It was obvious that his teachers and family who knew about the healing wanted him to learn as much as he could, as quickly as he could. He wondered if he was really up to the task.

The past two weeks had taken a toll on him to which he didn't want to admit. With his regular classes, Quidditch, and his extra lessons, he was feeling stretched thin. He had been looking forward to the Christmas holiday as a time to relax and let his mind rest. Now he had an extra book from Snape and more reading from his aunt.

"I'll try to find the time to read them," Connor said, resigned to spending a good portion of his time off reading.

"Connor," Hermione said, waiting until he looked up at her to continue, "I know it's a lot. I know it seems to all be happening at once. Just do your best; no one can ask you for more than that."

Connor nodded, but his heart didn't feel any lighter.

"And above all," she said, worry obvious in her expression, "be _careful_."

"I will," he promised.

She got to her feet and picked up her bag. "You should come over sometime this week and visit. Gwen and Prue have been worried about you since they heard you were in St. Mungo's."

She came around the table and kissed the top of his head before ruffling his hair **nc** and leaving.

Connor spooned up more porridge while he thought about his aunt Hermione's words, but didn't bring the spoon to his mouth. His appetite had fled. He wasn't sure why everything was suddenly weighing so heavily on him all of the sudden, but there was an undeniable tightness in his chest that he couldn't seem to dispel. He dropped his spoon back in to his bowl with a sigh.

"Hey."

Connor looked up to see his father leaning against the doorway leading to the living room, arms crossed as though he'd been standing there for some time.

"Hey, Dad," Connor said quietly.

"Hermione means well," Harry said. "But that doesn't mean she always knows what's best."

Connor shrugged. "I reckon she's right, though."

"Probably. It _is_ an annoying trait," Harry said with a chuckle. "But you know what I want you to do right now?"

Connor shook his head.

"I want you to take those books and put them in your school trunk, and leave them there until you go back to school. There'll be time enough for them later. After that, I want you to get dressed, get your broom, and meet me back here."

Connor didn't wait to be told twice. The knot in his chest began to loosen at the prospect of time alone with his dad. He jumped to his feet, pausing only long enough to scoop up the books on the table, _and_ then ran up the stairs.

He was back in the kitchen within minutes, dressed warmly, cloak on, holding his broom.

"That was fast," Harry said, meeting Connor at the bottom of the stairs. He also had his cloak on and was holding an unmarked broomstick in his right hand. In his left hand, he had a rucksack. "I told your mum that we'd be back after lunch. Let's go."

Connor followed his dad outside before asking where they were going.

"Not too far," Harry answered evasively. "A hundred miles or so. Am I right in thinking you need a bit of speed to help clear your head?"

Connor grinned widely and nodded eagerly.

"Just stick close to me and keep a lookout for Muggles. We'll be flying pretty high, and it should take us about an hour and half at the most to get there, depending on how fast you want to fly" Harry advised, strapping the rucksack to the handle of his broom and mounting his broom. Signal me if you need to land, or have any problems."

Connor agreed, pulled on the goggles his father handed him, and followed suit, kicking off into the air behind his father, excited about the day to come.

0

An hour later, Connor was still flying beside his father, up above the low clouds. It was freezing! If his father hadn't cast a strong heating charm on their cloaks and gloves, Connor was sure his clothes would be soaked, and he would have had ice crystals in his hair and eyelashes. Connor loved every moment of it.

Occasionally, Harry cast a Sonorus Charm on himself so that Connor would be able to hear him above the rushing of the wind. He pointed out landmarks and villages and warned of any detours they needed to make to avoid being spotted from the ground. Twenty minutes later, Harry signalled that he was going to begin descending, and Connor nodded, following close behind.

They broke out of the low clouds. They were over a secluded area, with no roads visible for at least a mile and ocean stretched out before them. Harry flew down past the green turf and came to a landing on a wide ledge that was about halfway down a steep cliff, overlooking the choppy grey water.

The roaring of the waves crashing below was quiet compared to the rushing of the wind that was suddenly no longer in their ears.

Connor stretched and shook his arms a bit to get the stiffness of the long flight out of them. His father had never taken him on such a long journey before, and Connor was feeling proud and happy not be treated like a little kid.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Harry pulled the rucksack from his broom, took out a large bottle of water, and set the bag on the ground. He dried the droplets of water on their cloaks with a wave of his hand, then took a long drink before passing the bottle to Connor. "This is my spot," he answered. He sat down on the ground, and dangled his legs over the edge, gesturing for Connor to join him. "I don't think it has a name."

Connor sat beside his father and quenched his thirst, waiting silently for him to continue, sensing that there was a story to be told.

"I come here when I want to think about things. When I need the peace and the quiet," Harry said, staring out over the water. It was still relatively early, and the late morning sun reflected off the surface in those areas where it was lucky enough to be able to break through the heavy clouds. "I found it by accident."

Connor wasn't sure if he was supposed to comment or not. His father had always been very open, and always available to talk to his children, but he didn't often offer up stories about himself or his past. Connor was afraid that if he broke the silence, his father would stop talking and change the subject.

"It was shortly after I defeated Voldemort," Harry said.

Connor sat up straighter and looked sharply at his father. This wasn't a subject they talked about at home. They just understood that it was something that Harry and Ginny liked to keep in the past.

"In fact," Harry said with a slightly bitter chuckle, **"**it was that same dayor night, I should say."

The silence fell again. It wasn't awkwardrather introspective. Connor could tell that his father was remembering the events that had led him to this place all of those years ago.

"I had just been in the biggest battle the wizarding world had ever seen, and I had just killed a man. It didn't seem to matter much that he was pure evil at that moment. I was just…full. I was full of thoughts and feelings and anger and terror and hurt—too many emotions to name. George had been seriously wounded. Fred was unconscious. Mr Weasley was dead. Ron was missing. Ginny was with Dumbledore, levitating him over to the medi-wizards that finally arrived. Hermione was doing her best to help with the wounded. The bodies"

Connor watched his father as he spoke. He watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed past a lump in his throat brought on by so many terrible memories. He waited for his father to continue, but Harry only stared off past the horizon for so long, that Connor was sure he'd been forgotten for the moment.

"I just summoned my broom, and took off," Harry finally said.

Connor stared. His father had left everything in chaos and just…_left_?

"I think," Harry said ruefully, "I probably went a little bit crazy just then."

Connor didn't know what to say to this. He was torn between being honoured that his father would confide all of this to him, and being terrified by the image of his father being anything less than the jovial, popular, self-effacing man he'd always known his father to be.

"What did you do?" Connor asked softly.

"I just flew away," Harry answered simply. "I had done my job, and my mind was screaming for me to just get out of there. So I did. I flew all the way here from Hogwarts, and only stopped here because I fell off my broom out of sheer exhaustion."

Connor gasped at the image. He looked up at the cliff above them and saw the jagged rocks protruding from the cliff face. The ledge they were on was fairly wide, but it must have been a miracle that had kept his father from plummeting to his death.

"Pretty mind-boggling, isn't it?" Harry asked when Connor sat staring at him. "I broke my arm in the fall. I was pretty beaten up to begin with, and then with my broken arm, and as tired as I was, I just lie there and went to sleep. I was here for two days before your mother found me."

"How did she find you?" Connor asked, intensely curious.

Harry laughed outright, then. A happy sound, that made Connor smile, too, even though he wasn't sure why. "She had put a magical tracking charm on my glasses. Hermione taught her how."

"On your glasses?" Connor repeated.

Harry nodded. "She wanted to put the charm on something that I would always be in contact with. I didn't wear any jewellery, I had more than one pair of shoes, and I was constantly breaking my watches. The glasses were something I really couldn't go anywhere without."

"Clever," Connor said admiringly.

"She found me on this very cliff, and landed her broom," Harry said reminiscently. "Then she helped me to my feet and punched me in the face."

"She what!" Connor asked with an uncontrollable laugh.

"Yep," Harry said with a cheerful grin. "Broke my nose and everything. Merlin, that hurt. Your mum has a mean right hook. It was at that moment that I realized that I loved her."

"Right after she punched you in the face," Connor said disbelievingly.

"Well," Harry amended "I was _pretty_ sure before then. But there was a war to fight, and I was destined to face Voldemort, and to be honest, I didn't expect to survive. I didn't want to admit to loving _anyone_, because I didn't want to hurt them even more when I died."

"That's stupid," Connor stated bluntly.

Harry threw back his head and laughed loudly at this statement, and then draped an arm over Connor's shoulders. "Truer words were never spoken. Of course, your mother knew it the whole time. After she punched me, she pulled a Portkey from her pocket and sent us to St Mungo's."

"Wow," Connor said, still inclined to laugh at the fact that his mum had broken his father's nose.

"Yeah," Harry said fondly. "Mind you, it still took me another two weeks to tell _her_ that I was in love with her. Ever since then, this has been my thinking place."

Connor shook his head in amusement. His parents were so sweet on each other it was enough to give casual bystanders cavities. He couldn't imagine a time when it hadn't always been that way. "So why bring _me_ here?"

"I figured you could use the distraction some time away and some peace and quiet," Harry said, sobering a bit. "I wanted you to understand that I know what it's like to have such huge responsibilities at your age. I haven't forgotten how rotten it feels not to know what's coming and what will be expected of you. I remember what it's like to feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulder. It isn't what I would have chosen for you, but since I can't change it, either, I thought you might like to share my thinking place."

"You're right," Connor said, touched by the offer. It helped to remember that his father had face far worse things when _he_ was Connor's age, and he came out of it well enough.

Harry patted Connor's shoulder, then reached behind him to drag the rucksack over. He unhooked the fastening and produced two thick sandwiches, passing one over to Connor.

They ate in companionable silence, each lost in their own separate thoughts.

"At least," Connor said at length, "at the end of all of this, I won't have to defeat a Dark Lord."

Harry's features darkened for a moment before his gave a small smile and said, "Your future is a lot brighter than that. It'll be hard, not being able to tell anyone, especially not your brothers or sister or cousins, yet. I want you to know that you can always talk to me."

After that, they talked for a while about Connor's new lessons, his friends, and Quidditch. Connor would never say it out loud, but he was ecstatically happy to be able to spend time alone with his father, talking. It was a rare treat not to have the other kids along.

Connor was a little tired, and it was a cold day, though no snow had fallen here yet this year. He couldn't hide a jaw-cracking yawn in the end, and Harry smiled knowingly.

"You know," Harry said as they straddled their brooms, "we don't have to fly all the way home. There are plenty of wizarding places between here and there. We could stop and use the Floo." He looked down at his watch. "In fact, we'd better if we don't want your mum to worry."

Connor looked at his own watch and was surprised to find that it was well past lunchtime. He was slightly relieved that he wouldn't have to fly for another hour and half in the freezing clouds; it looked at though it would rain soon. "Do you know where the closest Floo is?"

0

The next couple of days were a flurry of activity around the Potter house. In preparation for Christmas Eve, the house was filled with enough baked goods to feed a small army, and people came and went as if there was a revolving door on Potter Headquarters.

A lot of the visitors were there to have last minute adjustments made to custom broomsticks, or to pick up a broomstick order. Most, though, were old family friends who came to wish them a Happy Christmas and to spread good cheer.

The day after Connor flew to the seaside with father, Ivy came to visit, along with her parents, for afternoon tea, and the next day Connor met Quentin in Diagon Alley. Ivy and Rachel weren't able to come, and Zack was probably out on a big boat somewhere by then, so it was just the two of them.

Before Connor knew it, it was Christmas Eve. The family would be going to the Burrow for dinner later in the day, and Connor did his best to keep Adam and the twins out of the wayby taking them outside to play. Ginny was in the kitchen with Dobby, continuing to cook far too much food that nevertheless would be completely consumed by family and friends. Harry was busy in his basement workshop, making last minute adjustments to a broom that was having difficulties after having beenthoroughly hexed during a particularly violent Quidditch match.

0

The Burrow was more crowded than usual. It seemed that Connor's grandmother had invited every single person she could think of who might **be** at a loose end over the holiday, including Ms Grayson from school, Mundungus Fletcher, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a few people Connor had never seen before.

When they sat down to eat at a long line of tables that groaned under the weight of all the food, Connor and the other kids commandeered one end and sat together while the adults talked amongst themselves. Crackers were pulled, and puddings were devoured by the time everyone left the tables, sated.

Warming charms had been cast to keep the garden outside of the Burrow from getting too cold, and a bonfire was lit at the far end. The children went outdoors to occupy themselves, along with anyone who wanted to come outside to smoke. The older kids were careful to keep an eye on the younger kids around the fire****the mood was cheerful and fun. Inside the party continued with music and drinks.

Connor and Rachel stood by the fire, watching Maggie's two pet salamanders frolic in the flames. Rachel had a length of string in hand, and was busily working to tie it around a piece of greenery.

"What are you doing?" Connor asked her as she knotted the string.

"It's mistletoe!" Rachel said triumphantly, holding the greenery up so that it dangled in the air. "I heard Uncle Fred say that he forgot the self-levitating kind, so I nicked this from the upstairs hallway. We can't use our magic to levitate it over anyone, so this is the next best thing."

"Who are you going to hang it over?" Connor asked.

"Professor Lupin and Ms Grayson, of course!" Rachel answered as if it were obvious. "I'm going to get a long stick and use it like a fishing rod."

"Are you sure they even _want_ to get caught under mistletoe?" Connor asked doubtfully.

"You saw the way they were dancing in the common room!" Rachel said. "It'll be perfect!"

Connor wasn't so sure about that, but was willing enough to follow Rachel and peer through the window to see if they could spot her quarry. Professor Lupin was actually standing quite close to the window, so they had no trouble finding him. It took a minute longer to see Ms Grayson in the middle of the expanded living room, dancing with Uncle Bill.

The movement outside of the window must have given them away, because Lupin turned and looked out at them with an indulgent smile on his face. He set down his drink, and moved toward the door.

"Hide the stick," Rachel hissed. "He can't see it until they're both together."

Connor rolled his eyes, stepped over to the edge of the porch, and dropped it unceremoniously onto the ground.

"What are you two up to?" Lupin asked as he stepped outside.

"Nothing," Connor and Rachel said together.

"Just looking in to see what everyone else was doing inside," Rachel said.

"You _are_ allowed to come inside, you know," Lupin said, sitting down on the porch swing.

"We know," Rachel said. "It's just kind of boring in there."

Lupin chuckled at this and asked, "And what are all of the kids doing to fight off the boredom?"

"Oh, you know," Connor said with a shrug, "just kid stuff."

There was a shriek of laughter from the yard as Maggie passed her youngest sister, six-year-old Ella, a lit sparkler and watched as she ran in circles gleefully. Connor smiled at the image, and turned back to see the Lupin was watching, too.

"Ms Grayson seems to be having a good time," Rachel observed casually.

"She is," Lupin replied with a nod. "It was kind of Molly to invite her."

"Doesn't she have any family?" Connor asked, trying to remember if it had ever been mentioned in class.

"Not any around here," Lupin answered. "She has a grandfather in South America that she's particularly close to, but her parents passed away some years ago, as did a younger brother."

"That's too bad," Rachel said, looking sad.

"Yes, but she's enjoying herself tonight, thanks to Molly," Lupin said kindly. "And now, I think I'll go back indoors and join the others."

Rachel and Connor waited until Lupin went back inside, and then Rachel jumped down to retrieve her mistletoe stick. They moved around to the side of the house, to the kitchen's side entrance, and snuck in. There were a couple of people standing about who greeted them and talked to them a bit, but no one did more than raise a curious eyebrow at the long stick that Rachel carried.

They waited near the doorway of the dining area, which lead into the living room. It didn't take long before Lupin and Ms Grayson were standing next to each other, and Rachel crept over and dangled the mistletoe over them.

There was a chorus of laughter and cheers from the assembly, and Lupin and Ms Grayson both looked up, and simultaneously blushed.

"You have to kiss, now!" Charlie called from the other side of the room, and was met with enthusiastic agreement from many others.

Ms Grayson was blushing furiously, and Connor felt sort of bad for her, but smiled when Lupin bent his head to kiss her on the cheek. There were some groans of disappointment, but Fred soon appeared beside Rachel, and relieved her of the stick.

Molly came to shoo Connor and Rachel back outside so that they couldn't cause anymore last sight of the living room was of Fred holding the mistletoe over another couple.

After a while, it was time for the traditional fireworks show, and all of guests came out to the garden to watch. Sleepy younger children fell asleep in the arms of whoever was holding them as the colourful lights burst in the sky.

Connor looked around at his large family and all of their friends and felt content. It took a moment to realize that he didn't see Uncle Remus, and that Ms Grayson was also missing.

He got up from his place on the ground between Aiden and Prue**** and went to the side of the house, thinking to use the kitchen entrance since there were so many people on the porch, blocking the front door. He came to a halt, though, when he saw Lupin and Ms Grayson standing outside the door, in the light from the kitchen window.

Lupin had the sprig of mistletoe in one hand and was holding it over Ms Grayson's head. Her arms were around him, and his free arm was around her, and they were kissing _really_ kissing, like he sometimes saw his parents do. They didn't notice Connor standing there, so he quickly retreated, feeling his cheeks heat.

Connor went back to the fireworks show and didn't mention what he had seen to anyone.

0

Connor woke early on Christmas morning. There was a slight buzzing in his head that told him that it was time to do his Occlumency. Being around a large crowd last night must have taken its toll, but he had been tired enough when he got home that he had fallen asleep with no problem at all.

Now he listened to the quiet house and knew that he probably didn't have long before the twins and Adam were awake. He closed his eyes and settled into his routine of clearing his mind. He had a nagging feeling at the edges of hismind that there was a particularly strong thought trying to break through his barriers, but he redoubled his efforts and denied it access. By the time he was finished, Connor's mind was settled once more and he felt refreshed.

There was still no sign of the others being awake, and Connor figured that the party the night before had really tired everyone out. He dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, knowing that he would be receiving his traditional jumper soon and didn't need to dress any warmer. He left his bedroom, intending to wake Ian, and walked lightly down the stairs.

The sound that came from the landing below made his heart jump. It was cross between a strangled yelp and a screech. The noise continued; it wasn't overly loud, but Connor had been listening for signs of anyone else being up, so the noise seemed louder than it actually was. Connor looked down the steps and saw a long, black strip of something that appeared to be strung from where he was standing down to the landing. It took him a second to realise that it was Snowball's _tongue_, and that he was _standing_ on it!

"Damn!" Connor hissed. He quickly jumped up to a higher step, and watched as the tongue retracted down into the dim light. He raced after it**nc** and saw Snowball in a dark corner, emitting pitiful whining sounds.

When Connor approached the over-sized puffskein, it made a growling noise that had Connor backing away.

"I didn't mean it," Connor told the giant fur ball quietly. "I didn't see it there."

Snowball went back to whining.

"Here," Connor said with resignation, "let me see what I can do for you."

Connor slowly approached Snowball, and refused to back up when it began to growl. It occurred to Connor that his hands weren't even slightly itchy. He wondered if this was because he had just finished with his Occlumency, or if it was because Snowball wasn't really injured. Maybe his healing power didn't work on animals?

"Hush," Connor admonished as Snowball's growls became slightly more vocal. "I'm trying to help you." He picked up the puffskein gingerly, not sure which way was the front, and which way was the back. It wriggled in his grasp, but Connor held firm.

It occurred to Connor then, that he didn't know how to activate his healing power, even if he wanted to. Nothing seemed to happen as he held the growling bundle of angry fur, and so he continued down the steps to his parents' room.

He knocked lightly on the closed door, and was rewarded with a tired sounding, "Come in."

His mum was already out of bed, wrapped in a dressing gown and brushing her hair. His dad was also in a dressing gown, but was sitting up on the bed, reading.

"Are you kids ready to go down an open presents?" Harry asked. "Where are the others?"

"Not awake yet," Connor answered, holding Snowball out in front of him. It had stopped wriggling, but was still growling menacingly. "I accidentally stepped on his tongue."

"Oh dear," Ginny said with a strangled laugh. "Poor thing! Is he bleeding?"

"How would I know?" Connor asked, gladly passing the animal over into his mother's care. "I can't even tell where its mouth is."

"Let's see what we've got here," Ginny crooned to Snowball as she set him on her dressing table and lit a lamp.

Snowball stopped making noise as soon as Connor let go of him. Connor scowled.

"What's that thing doing wandering around the house at night for, anyway? Doesn't Adam have a cage for it?" Connor asked crossly.

"He's too big for his cage, and he's never been a problem, so we haven't insisted on one," Ginny said, examining it.

"You didn't try to heal him, did you?" Harry asked suddenly, eyeing Connor.

"No," Connor said, sitting down by his dad's feet. "I wouldn't even know how."

"You don't feel compelled to help him?" Harry asked.

"Well, I feel a bit guilty for stepping on his tongue," Connor admitted. "My hands didn't itch or anything, though. I'm thinking it doesn't work on animals."

"It's something to check into," Harry said, "some other time."

At that moment, Adam, Ian and Lucy all came tumbling into the room, laughing and climbing onto the bed.

"Snowball!" Adam cried when he saw his pet in his mother's arms. "How did you get in here?"

"I accidentally stepped on his tongue," Connor admitted, trying to sound contrite. "I brought him in here to Mum to have her look him over."

"Is he hurt?" Adam asked worriedly, taking his pet. Snowball immediately began to warble. "He _seems_ okay."

"We'll just keep an eye on him," Ginny said decisively. "If he continues to eat regularly and acts normal, we'll assume he's okay.

"Now," Harry said, standing up, "do we want breakfast first, or presents?"

The kids all shouted, "Presents!" at the same time**** and scrambled from the room.


	19. Chapter 19 A Moment of Decision

**Chapter 19 - A Moment of Decision**

_In a moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing to do. The worst thing you can do is nothing.Theodore Roosevelt_

Christmas morning, the Potter family sat gathered together in their living room, having finished opening the presents that had been piled under the Christmas tree.

Connor had received, and was wearing, his anticipated new jumper. It was black this year, with no stripes or pattern to speak of. He had also received more books from his Aunt Hermione, new prank supplies from Fred and George's families, a chessboard from Charlie's family, and a new schoolbag from Bill's family. His parents had given him his own Wizarding Wireless, and much to his surprise, a new owl of his own.

"She's brilliant," Connor said when he saw her. She had grey and white stripes, with dark brown eyes.

"She's a Barred Owl," Harry told him. "They're native to North America, but she should do quite well, here. I'm afraid that Lucy went and named her before we could stop her. You can try to change it, but owls are contrary that way. Once you give them a name, they almost always stick with it."

"I'm afraid to ask," Connor said, looking at his sister, who stuck her tongue out at him.

"Her name's Cliodna," Lucy answered. "Clio for short."

"Not bad," Connor conceded. "Why that name?"

"Well," Lucy said eagerly, "Cliodna was an Irish druidess who had a bird animagus form. She also had three magic birds that could heal people."

Connor looked sharply at his parents, but Ginny gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head in answer to his unspoken question. His brothers and sister were completely unaware of Connor's healing abilities.

"I guess that's as good as anything," Connor said, stroking Cliodna's breast feathers. "I hope she gets along with Godric."

"Hedwig likes her," Ian said, "and Hedwig's gotten awfully grouchy in her old age, so that's saying something."

Adam, on the other hand, had gotten a new broom for Christmas, and this was his first one without a safety tether. He was in raptures over it, and hadn't stopped smiling since his father had handed it to him. He was all but dancing in place, waiting to find out when he would be allowed to go and try it out.

"After breakfast," Ginny told him as she headed for the kitchen. "Your dad can take you out while I start getting ready for tonight's dinner."

"Can I help, Mum?" Lucy asked. "It's too cold out to fly."

Connor, who knew that his sister enjoyed flying in any kind of weather, thought that Lucy was simply looking for some mother-daughter time.

"I'm sure I could find something for you to do," Ginny agreed, seeming pleased.

Once the 'girls' had left the room, the boys went to go get dressed. Connor gathered his gifts; Cliodna fluttered up to his shoulder when he clicked his tongue at her. He was careful to look for any puffskeins and their tongues as he climbed up to his room.

"Godric," Connor said as he dumped his presents on his bed, "meet Cliodna. Clio, this is Godric—he's staying with us for a few days while Zack is on holiday. He doesn't normally live here."

Connor watched as Cliodna hopped down his arm and onto the perch beside a wary-looking Godric. They peered at each other for a few moments, and then both tucked their heads under their wings and went to sleep.

Connor chuckled. At least they didn't hate each other. He finished dressing quickly, and was back downstairs just as Lucy set down a huge plate of sausages.

"That's enough for three families!" Connor said when he saw that amount of food being laid out. "Is Uncle Ron coming to breakfast, or something?"

"Hey! I resemble that remark!" Ron said, coming into the room and sitting beside his nephew.

"Hey, Uncle Ron!" Connor smiled, passing him the enormous platter of eggs. "Is Rachel here?"

"No," Ron answered with his mouth full. "One of our clients is having serious problems with the broom he ordered from us for Christmas, and Harry and I need to have a look at it before the guy kills himself trying to ride it."

"Speaking of which," Harry said, coming into the room dusting his hands off, "I just Flooed him, and he should be here in about twenty minutes."

"What about flying?" Adam asked plaintively, coming into the room, his new broom clutched in his hand.

"Sorry, Adam, but I have to take care of this first," Harry said. "I promised this customer the best broom his money can buy, and my job's not done until he has what he paid for. Hopefully the problem is more with the rider than the broom, and I can finish quickly."

"I can watch him for a bit," Connor offered as he scooped some fried potatoes onto his plate. "We can fly on the west side of the house, and that way Mum can keep an eye on us from the kitchen window."

"I'll help watch him, too," Ian said, taking a seat and filling up his plate. "I'd like to break in my new Quaffle."

Harry looked sceptical. "I don't know. It's his first time on the new broom."

"_Please_, Dad?" Adam begged. "_Please_? I'll listen to Connor, I _promise_!"

"What kind of trouble could they get into right under Ginny's nose?" Ron asked.

The three boys looked up at him hopefully, and he laughed before giving in. "All right, but no stuntsno rolls or flips or loops."

"I promise," Adam said fervently. "Thanks!"

As the family ate their breakfast happily, Ron (a born story teller, in Connor's opinion) gave a report on what his family had received for presents. He had a funny story about Hermione's mum coming to stay with them that he shared amidst a lot of laughter from his appreciative audience.

"She gave Rachel, Gwen and Prue each fifty Euros," Ron told them. He explained that Euros were a kind of Muggle money made out of paper equivalent to about eight Galleons.

"Wow!" Ian said, impressed.

"Yes," Ron said with a chuckle. "Except that the girls have never really had any money made out of paper, before. They were trying to fold it into paper cranes, convinced it was some sort of magical parchment that would make them fly or something. Hermione's mum was _very_ confused."

Finally there was a heavy knock on the door, Ron and Harry excused themselves to work.

Connor and Ian took Adam outside and tried to give him some pointers about the new broom he was going to be riding. Adam, however, did not want their advice and waved them off with a vehement, "Leave me alone!"

Connor shrugged, and resolved to fly close to his youngest brother at all times. Adam tended to be something of a clumsy flier, though he loved being up in the air. Still, their father surely wouldn't have given Adam a new broom without a tether if he felt that he wasn't ready for it yet.

They flew around the large garden, keeping close to the ground until Adam had the feel of his new broom, and then played a three-way game of catch with the Quaffle. As they played, Connor observed that Adam seemed to be doing quite well, and relaxed a bit.

Professor Lupin came out into the yard at one point and waved up at them, calling out, "Happy Christmas!" He watched them for a few minutes before going back inside the house where it was warm, and snow flurries weren't starting to fall from the steely sky.

After about an hour, Connor was feeling cold and tired.

"Come on, you guys," he called to his brothers as the snow began to fall more thickly. "I want to go inside now and see Uncle Remus. I'm cold!"

Ian and Adam protested, but Connor reminded them that their father would probably be done soon, and they could come out again later.

Ian nodded and landed his broom beside Connor, his feet crunching in the thin layer of old snow left over from last week. Adam, however, was being stubborn. He still had Ian's new Quaffle, and was tossing it high into the air, and then darting after it."

"Adam," Connor called up to him, as he threw the Quaffle high and caught it easily. "You know you're not allowed to fly without someone else out here to watch you."

"Then stay out here with me," Adam whined. He tossed the Quaffle high again and floated upward a few more feet, as if to mock his older brothers.

"Let's just tie him _and_ his new broom to a tree," Ian suggested to Connor as they stood looking upward. "We can take him."

"You know Mum would kill us. It took her an hour to find him when Lucy tied him up in the tree house last summer," Connor said, shaking his head.

Connor was about to threaten Adam with telling their parents when the Quaffle suddenly fell back down a foot or so behind Adam. Adam lunged backward to grab at the errant ball, but the sudden move threw him off balance, and he lost his seat. Even as he was beginning to fall, Connor shouted for Ian to go get help, and cursed the fact that he'd left his wand in his room.

From the corner of his eye, Connor saw Ian takeoff at a sprint for the house. Connor was practically underneath Adam, and tried to catch him when the younger boy crashed down. There was no time for Connor to think of anything else as Adam collided with him, taking them both to the ground in a heap.

The impact knocked the wind out of Connor, and he heard more than one sickening snap as he hit the ground under the weight of his brother. Pain radiated from his left elbow and shoulder, and he shook his head to clear it before he took stock of what had just happened.

Adam was lying still across his left leg, his eyes closed. His head was bleeding from the back, where it appeared to have hit a rock, staining the snowy ground. Connor was breathing hard and flinched as his hands flared into heat, itching viciously.

"Adam?" Connor tried to rouse his brother, but Adam didn't move.

Connor eased his leg out from beneath Adam's prone form, then knelt beside him, trying to ignore both his pain and the itching.

"_Adam_!" he shouted, willing his brother to wake up and cry or shout or do anything but lay there helplessly. Connor used his right hand to try to slap Adam's cheek lightly, and that was all it took for his healing power to take over.

Connor's right hand clamped onto Adam's head, fingers splayed in the red hair, and began to tingle and burn. Connor cried out as the back of his own head felt as though it would burst from the sudden stabbing pain. He only dimly heard the shouts coming from the direction of the house, but couldn't make out who was yelling or what they were saying. By the time he felt an arm grab him around the chest and drag him backward, he was already blacking out.

0

"...don't know why he's been out this long."

A voice began to come into focus as Connor's mind returned to consciousness. He had a strong ache all along the left side of his body, and his head hurt as well, though it was a bearable pain. He couldn't recall for few moments what had happened to him, and then it all flooded back in a rush. He sat straight up in bed before his eyes were even open, crying, "Adam!"

"Whoa, there!"

Connor looked to his left to see Lupin jumping to his feet and urging him to lie back. One look around at the bed and generic furnishings told Connor that he was back in St. Mungo's. Lupin looked haggard with worry, but his hands were strong and sure as they eased him back.

"Oh no," Connor moaned when he caught sight of the healer in her lime green robes. "Not again! Where's Adam? What happened to him? Is he all right? How did I get here?"

"Drink this," the healer said, shoving a beaker of blue liquid that was faintly smoking. She grabbed Connor's other wrist, and began to take his pulse.

Dutifully, Connor swallowed the sour contents of the beaker with a grimace, and then asked, again, "Where's Adam? Is he okay? How long have I been here? Where are Mum and Dad?"

Within moments, however, Connor didn't feel quite so urgent about matter as he had done from the moment he'd opened his eyes. He turned questioning eyes to the healer who simply said, "A mild Calming Draught."

"You've been here about two hours. Your parents are with Adam," Lupin told him gently. "I told them that I would stay here with you."

"What's wrong with him? Is he all right? Where are Lucy and Ian? How long have I been here? I have to go find Adam!" Connor fought the Calming Draught fiercely and tried to swing his legs off of the bed. He was shirtless and barefoot, but still wearing his own trousers.

"Could you give us a minute, please?" Lupin asked the healer politely as he restrained Connor against the bed.

The healer nodded. "Let me know if he needs anything else," she said before exiting the room.

Connor looked around, searching for some sign that might tell him exactly where he was, or where he might find Adam. The last thing he recalled was trying to wake him up, and the blood on his head. Then the healing powers had taken over, and someone had pulled Connor away from Adam.

"You need to calm down long enough for me to tell you what's going on," Lupin said firmly. "Stay put, and give all of the potions and charms time to work. You won't do anyone any good by getting all worked up."

Connor stopped struggling against his uncle's restraining hands, and settled back onto the pillows behind him. He had a very bad feeling about what he was going to hear, and a sense of intense trepidation filled him. He suddenly knew without a doubt that he had not had a long enough contact with Adam to heal his properly.

"He's not…." Connor said around a sudden lump in his throat as his eyes began to burn with tears, "He hasn't _died_?"

"Oh, Connor! No! Adam isn't dead!" Lupin hastened to assure him. "But he is in very serious condition. Ian said that he fell from about twenty feet in the air, and then he landed on top of _you_."

"I remember," Connor said with a shudder. "He hit his head on a rock, and I tried to get him to wake up, but he wouldn't."

"What made you attempt to heal him?" Lupin asked in an unusually scolding tone. "Why would you endanger yourself like that?"

"You know about me being a Healer, then?" Connor asked in a small voice. Lupin had never sounded so accusatory.

"Yes," Lupin said with a sigh. His displeasure seemed to subside a little at Connor's obvious discomfort. "I know all about itMs Grayson does, as well. She was in the next room when I found out, and accidentally overheard. Don't worry; she knows the importance of keeping it strictly secret. She's actually met a healer before, in South America."

"I wasn't sure you knew, so I didn't say anything to you about it," Connor said. "So, Adam's really alive?"

"Yes," Lupin answered. "He's alive, but he's got a longer recovery ahead of him. I daresay that your efforts on his behalf when he first fell are what saved him. He shouldn't have any lasting damage to his brain."

Connor remembered the pain he'd felt in his own head just before he blacked out, and put his hand up to inspect the place were his scalp had torn open.

"Ginny washed your hair with a Scouring Charm before the healers could see the blood and get any suspicious thoughts. You were trying to heal Adam and had partially absorbed the wound. Thankfully, it didn't get much farther than it did," Lupin told him, sounding shaky. "If you had gone any further, we might have lost you both."

"I don't understand," Connor said.

"When Adam hit his head, he was very nearly killed. His brain immediately began to swell, and there was no telling what kind of damage had been done. His skull had been fractured, and according to the healers, his spinal cord was partially compressed at the moment of impact. You softened some of the blow with your own body." Lupin explained.

"Yeah," Connor said, rolling his shoulder experimentally to feel that it was still tender. "My left arm didn't want to work after he fell on me."

"You're lucky that's all that stopped working," Lupin told him. "If you had continued to try to heal him, you very well could have suffered brain damage, because of the way you absorb others' injuries when you heal them. If you had sustained damage to the part of your brain that controlled your healing ability, you might have both been stuck half way between healed and injured. Permanently."

"I didn't think of that," Connor admitted thoughtfully. "I wasn't trying to heal him. It just kind of took over when I was trying to wake him up."

"That's good to know. At least you weren't being deliberately reckless. As it is, your elbow broke, and your shoulder was dislocated in the collision," Lupin said bluntly.

"Did I heal those, too?" Connor asked.

"No. That's the curious part," Lupin said. "Your body healed the skull fracture you absorbed from Adam right in front of our eyes. We actually watched the wound close and heal itself as if it had never been there."

"But the other stuff didn't go away on its own?" Connor asked, puzzled.

"No," Lupin said. "It seems that any injury done to you is up to you to heal the same way that anyone else would. You can't heal yourself—just others. The healers fixed you up when we brought you in."

"Can we go and see Adam, now?" Connor asked suddenly.

"We'll have to wait and see what the healer says. You were unconscious for a while longer than they would have expected from just fainting because of the pain. With no evidence of a head injury, they're worried that they're missing something."

"They _are_," Connor said, "thank goodness."

"Yes," Lupin agreed. "I'll go and find someone to tell us…"

At that moment, the door opened, and Ginny stuck her head into the room. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her nose was raw-looking. The rest of her face was pale, and her freckles stood out in sharp relief against the pallor of her skin.

"Thank Merlin," she whispered to herself as he came in and sat beside Connor, pulling him close. "Thank Merlin you're awake! How do you feel?"

"I'm fine, Mum. How's Adam?" Connor said, hugging her back tightly. "I want to see him."

Ginny let him go to look him in the eye. He chin quivered for a moment, and she swallowed hard before answering. "He's sleeping right now. The healers say that it was a near thing. You saved his life, Connor, but you took an awful risk! Don't you ever, _ever_ do that again! Do you hear me?"

Her eyes filled with tears, which made Connor's own eyes prickle with unshed tears. "It's okay, Mum," he assured her. "You know I'd do anything for Adam."

This only made Ginny sob once before she got herself under control again. "I know you would, honey. Right now, I don't know if it's safe for you to be near him. I don't know how being around him would affect you."

"I'm fine. My mental shields are still upmy hands don't itch at all." Connor held up his hands as if to prove that they weren't at all inflamed.

"You're not in close proximity to anyone really sick or injured, though," Lupin pointed out.

"Please," Connor said simply. "I won't touch him at all, and if I look like I'm going to, you can use Petrificus or Immobulus on me. I need to see him."

"All right," Ginny said after a moment's consideration. "As long as you stay away from his bed. I don't want to take any chances."

Connor nodded in agreement as a healer bustled into the room with another potion for him.

"After you drink this, and I perform one last diagnostic charm," she said brusquely, "you're free to go. I understand that you have a brother being attended to here, as well."

"Yes, ma'am," Connor said. He didn't plan to protest over any potion or procedure that might delay him from seeing Adam.

0

Ten minutes later, Connor was dressed again and was being led on shaky legs down a series of corridors until they came to a small private room.

Connor sneezed at the strange smell as he entered Adam's room, and ignored the anxious stare his mother was giving him. He knew she was watching him for signs of his healing powers showing themselves, but Connor felt normal. His hands didn't even twinge when he approached the bed were his brother was lying unconscious.

There was a small cauldron on the table beside Adam's bed, with a low purple flame beneath it. The surface of the potion inside was bubbling vigorously, emitting a white steam that made the air seem humid. Connor knew that the steam was most likely some sort of airborne medicine for Adam, and that they wouldn't be allowed in the room if it was dangerous. The vapour smelled of dandelions and feverfew as well as a hint of ginger and a few other herbs.

The walls were scattered with parchments charmed to record any activity that Adam might experience. They looked frightening to Connor, who could barely make them out from where he stood.

Harry was sitting on the far side of the bed. He looked up at Connor and nodded reassuringly before turning his eyes back to Adam. Ian and Lucy were sitting on either side of Harry, and both looked as if they were in shock. Lucy's eyes looked too big for her face, and Ian looked suspiciously as if he had been crying recently, though his face was dry for now.

Ginny let Connor advance into the room only a short way. She halted his progress by putting a hand on his shoulder and guiding him to a chair by the window and then standing beside him. He knew that he was just watching out for him, but found himself feeling mildly annoyed. Then he got a good look at Adam.

Connor's throat tightened and he felt a sting behind his eyes. He fisted his hands at his sides out of frustration, curbing the urge to go to the bed, not to heal, but to sit and comfort. His baby brother was lying on the bed, unnaturally pale and quiet against the stark white of the sheets pulled up across his chest. His head was wrapped in thick gauze bandages that only let one or two locks of Adam's red curls escape.

"I'm sorry," Connor said, looking up at his mother.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Connor," Ginny said quietly, squeezing his shoulder.

"I was supposed to be watching him," Connor said miserably.

"This isn't your fault, Con," Harry said from across the room. "It was an accident. We're not going to blame anyone."

Connor nodded, but didn't feel any better. He had told his parents that he would look after Adam, and now Adam was lying in a hospital bed with his head in bandages. Connor couldn't see how this _wasn't_ his fault.

Lupin drew in another two chairs and everyone sat and settled into a watchful silence. Healers and Apprentice Healers came and went, refilling the steaming cauldron occasionally, or checking the charts. Someone brought tea that none of them drank.

Lupin left for a short while after what seemed like hours, and when he came back, he wasn't alone. Connor found himself engulfed in a hug from his Grandma Molly before he really even registered her presence in the room. Molly also went and hugged Lucy, Ian and his parents.

"I've come to take the children home," Molly said to Ginny as she gazed sadly at Adam for a moment. "I know you and Harry will want to stay here with Adam."

Lucy and Ian stood and stretched, taking their cloaks from the backs of their chairs. Lucy leaned over Adam and covered his limp hand with hers, saying, "Bye, Adam. See you tomorrow."

Ian did the same, and he and Lucy went to hug their parents.

"I'm not going," Connor said when Molly looked at him expectantly. "I'm staying here."

"You need your rest, darling. You can come back tomorrow." Molly coaxed encouragingly.

"No," Connor said firmly. He looked to his father for support.

"It's all right, Molly," Harry said quietly. "I appreciate you taking Lucy and Ian. Connor will be fine here with us."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Ginny asked Harry pointedly. "Connor really shouldn't be around all of this…"

"He'll be fine," Harry interrupted. "Lucy and Ian will have a great time with Molly, and we'll Floo the moment we know anything new."

Connor let out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, and stayed in his seat. Lucy was looking at Ian as if questioning what was going on with Connor, but she kept her own counsel. Connor waved to the twins and Molly as they left, and acknowledged Lupin when he said that he had some things to see to.

The Potters kept up their bedside vigil, eating stale sandwiches and drinking cold tea when the hospital volunteers brought them. Connor eventually felt his eyes grow heavy, and fell asleep in his chair.

0

Connor woke up to the sound of crying, and was on his feet looking blearily around before he was even aware that he was awake. The room was dimly lit, and there was a rustling as Harry and Ginny rushed to get to Adam's bedside to comfort him.

Connor blinked away his fatigue, and went to the door of the room to look for a healer. He spotted one at the end of the corridor, and signalled to him to come.

"My head _hurts_!" Adam wailed.

"I know, darling, I know," Ginny soothed, holding onto his hands so that he wouldn't tug at the bandages.

The healer came into the room and began to check the parchments on the wall, then pulled at vial of pearly white potions from his robes and inspected the label. It only took him a moment to pour about half of the potion into a small cup, and urge Adam (now calmer) to drink it.

"That was some fall you took, young man," the healer told Adam as he tipped the cup to his patient's lips. "You gave your parents quite a fright."

Connor had a sudden picture in his head, and quickly grabbed a nearby basin from a table in the corner of the room. He stepped forward and shoved it under Adam's chin as soon as the doctor administered the potion, and wasn't the least bit surprised when Adam was immediately sick.

"Quick thinking," the healer said to Connor gratefully.

"Adam hates potions," Connor informed the man. "He never keeps them down—always spits them out."

Adam now had his arms crossed over his chest defiantly, and nodded in agreement with Connor. "It's nasty!"

"Adam," Harry said in a warning tone.

"It _is_ nasty stuff," the healer commiserated, "but it will help with the concussion and the pain."

Adam steadfastly refused to swallow any more potions, gagging and biting when they tried to make him. The healer finally conceded defeat. He cast a pain-relieving charm that he warned was short-term and mild, and went to see if there was a specialist currently working who could magic the potion directly into Adam's stomach. It wasn't the best way for him to get the full potency of the potion, but it would be better than nothing.

When he had gone, Ginny yawned hugely, and Harry stood and stretched. Adam was looking around the room with interest, even though he was still tearful and obviously in pain. Connor was so glad to see Adam awake and alert, that he couldn't stop smiling.

"Now that Adam is awake and coherent," Harry said to Ginny, "why don't you take Connor home for a proper meal and some rest. I'll stay here until you get back."

Ginny agreed, and didn't protest as Connor leaned down and whispered to his brother, "If you take the potions the healers give you, I'll try to sneak Sweetie and Pit-Pat back with me later."

Adam eyed him suspiciously.

"If you don't take your potions, you won't get to see them for a week. Maybe _longer_," Connor warned.

"Snowball, too," Adam said firmly.

Connor hesitated, but couldn't deny Adam anything when he looked so frail. "Snowball, too," he agreed wearily.

Adam agreed, and if Ginny heard Connor's promise, she acted as if nothing was amiss.

Connor followed his mother through the corridors and down some steps until they reached the Floo station in the lobby of the hospital. Ginny paid an attendant for some Floo powder, and saw Connor safely into the large grate.

"I'll see you at home," she said to him as she stepped away from the Floo.

Connor nodded, then shouted out his address as he threw down the powder.

0

Connor sat at the kitchen table, telling Ian and Lucy between huge bites of his sandwich, that Adam was doing fine. Now that he was home, Connor felt like he hadn't eaten in days, and eagerly loaded his plate with the chips that Dobby set on the table.

Ginny had gone to take a shower and a short nap, and said to wake her around lunchtime.

"Your father will be ready for a break by then, and you three can visit with Adam while he comes home to freshen up," Ginny told them.

After Ginny had left the room, Ian and Lucy exchanged what Connor liked to call a 'twin' look.

"Are you all right, Con?" Ian asked. "From the house, I could see you trying to help Adam, then suddenly Uncle Remus was pulling you off of him, and you passed out and everyone was panicking."

"Sorry," Connor said. "I'm okay, now."

They just stared at him as if waiting for him to elaborate.

"Look," Connor said. "Lately my magic's been a little…unpredictable. My, er, precognition is making my magic act up in weird ways, and they didn't want any accidental magic flaring up and hurting anyone. That's why Lupin grabbed me. Then when everyone realized what had happened to Adam, that's when the panic started."

"They knew about Adam already," Lucy persisted, her gaze seeming to bore holes into Connor with its intensity. "Ian yelled it out as soon as he got to the house."

Connor knew that the twins could sense that more was going on than what they were being told, and he really wanted to tell them his secret. However, his parents would probably skin him alive for it, and then _Obliviate_ the twins to make them forget about it, anyway.

"I reckon they didn't realize how serious it was until they saw him," Connor said by way of answer.

The twins gave him a considering look, as if they weren't sure whether or not to believe him. They seemed to be trying to discern the truth without speaking, but finally Lucy sighed and said, "I guess."

"Look, I made a deal with Adam," Connor said, quickly diverting attention away from his own stay at St Mungo's. "I'm going to need some help getting Snowball, Pit-Pat and Sweetie into the hospital without anyone finding out."

"So what do you need us for?" Ian asked with a sly smile. "Pit-Pat and Sweetie can each go in one of your pockets, and you can hold Snowball under your cloak."

"You know Snowball doesn't like me," Connor said pleadingly.

"Can you blame him?" Lucy asked with an arched eyebrow. "You stepped on him yesterday morning."

"Come on, guys," Connor said, refusing to sound as desperate as he felt.

"Nope," Ian said happily.

"Lucy?" Connor turned pleading eyes to her. "You'll help me, won't you?"

"Sorry," Lucy answered. "Maybe this is a chance for you and Snowball to come to a truce. Can he really be that mad at you after you take him to see Adam?"

"You guys stink," Connor said, sulking.

The twins remained unmoved, and Connor decided that they would have to pay for this insolence later. Maybe he could sneak a couple of Flatulent Fancies into the Fizzing Whizbee bags they had gotten for Christmas.

Lucy went and woke Ginny at lunchtime, and everyone gathered their cloaks. Connor carefully slipped the two smaller puffskeins into his pockets, and then carefully approached Snowball, who was sitting on Adam's bed, on top of the pillow. Connor kneeled down and made sure no one was listening in to his attempt to talk to Snowball while the fur ball growled quietly at him.

"Look," he whispered to the mutant puffskein uneasily. "Adam got hurt yesterday. Bad."

Snowball quieted a bit. Connor wasn't sure if it understood him, or if it just recognised Adam's name, but either way, it was no longer growling.

"I promised Adam that I would bring you to see him, but you can't be seen," Connor rushed on, while his mother called up the stairs for him to hurry. "If you make any noise, they might find out I brought you, and take you back home. Okay?"

"Connor! Hurry up!" Ginny called up the stairs again.

"Coming, Mum! I'm just grabbing some stuff for Adam!" Connor called back. He scooped snowball up and help him to eye-level for a moment. "Remember, no noise."

Connor slipped Snowball beneath his cloak and grabbed a couple of Adam's favourite books and a pair of his favourite pyjamas on his way out, and met up with Ginny and the twins in front of the Floo.

"What's all that stuff?" Ginny asked him as he came in, carrying it all in front of him, and using its bulk to disguise the fact the Snowball was secreted beneath his cloak.

"Oh, just some stuff for Adam. To make him more comfortable," Connor said, only half-truthfully.

Ginny eyed him strangely, but didn't ask any more questions before she saw each of the twins, and then Connor off in the Floo.

0

Connor stood in the hallway outside of Adam's room with Lucy and Ian. The healer was in the room examining their brother, and had asked them to wait outside for a few minutes until he was finished. Connor didn't mention that his hands were beginning to feel a slight tingle in the palms, and worked hard at concentrating on his Occlumency. He hadn't felt that he had needed it earlier, but now he wondered if he should have taken the time to practice it that morning, as usual.

An apprentice healer stopped to stare at them for a moment when Snowball growled impatiently under Connor's cloak.

"I'm _really_ hungry," Connor said by way of excuse at the apprentice's strange look, causing Ian and Lucy to laugh unabashedly. They quieted when the door across from them opened.

"You kids can go in and see your brother now," a healer in green robes told them when he came out of Adam's room. "Don't overexcite him."

Connor nodded, and hurried into the room. Ginny and Harry were standing at either side of Adam. Adam himself looked miserable, and had tears drying on his cheeks.

"The healer just changed the bandages and gave him some potions," Ginny explained quietly as her other children filed in. "He's a little uncomfortable right now."

"Did he take his potions, okay?" Connor asked, looking into Adam's unhappy face.

"Yes, he did," Harry said with an impressed smile. "He didn't even argue."

"Well, then," Connor said, not taking his eyes from Adam, "a deal's a deal."

Adam's eyes lit up when Connor dropped the books and pyjamas on the coverlet and withdrew Snowball from the inside of his cloak. He quickly set him down on Adam's chest, ignoring the mock-disapproving sound his mother made. Pit-Pat and Sweetie joined Snowball a moment later, and Adam gathered them all up with a joyful hug.

0

Connor and the twins stayed with Adam all afternoon, reading to him, playing cards and talking. Harry had gone home a few hours before to get some rest and a meal, and Ginny had left to Floo Grandma Molly with an update.

When Hermione came into the room with Harry, the four children were involved in double game of chess.

"And how did these animals get in here?" Hermione asked sternly when she spotted the puffskeins on Adam's pillow.

"Auntie Hermione!" Adam said happily when he saw here. "Connor brought them. He said that if I took all of my potions without a fuss, he would bring Snowball and Pit-Pat and Sweetie to visit me! The potions were really gross, and I didn't even complain, and then when Connor came back, he brought them, just like he promised, and I missed them so much! You won't tell the healers, will you? They would make Connor take them home, and I like having them here!"

"Well, I can tell that you're feeling a bit better." Hermione smiled indulgently.

Connor glared when Hermione patted Snowball, and the little freak began to croon for her.

"And how are _you_, Connor?" Hermione asked casually. "I can't think that it was much fun to have your brother land on top of you."

"I'm good as new," Connor hastened to say when he noticed Adam's lower lip begin to tremble.

"Will you kids be all right if Hermione and I go to have a word with the healers?" Harry asked.

"We'll be fine," Ian assured him, moving one of his chess pieces on the board.

Harry nodded, and led Hermione out the room with a meaningful expression.

Connor, curious about what the healers might say to his dad, left the bed and crept across the room until he was at the door. He could hear his dad and his aunt talking out in the hallway, and stopped to eavesdrop.

"He's been in there for hours with Adam, and there's no sign at all that he feels any urge to use his healing power at all. What if…what if whatever Connor did to help Adam," Harry asked Hermione in a half-hopeful voice, "somehow cancelled out whatever it is inside of him that makes him a healer? I mean, maybe there was some brain damage to Connor, but the only damage was to the part that makes him…"

"Sorry, Dad," Connor interrupted, sounding sheepish as he stepped into the hallway, revealing his presence. "After I healed Ivy, I didn't need to Occlude or anything for a couple of days after: I think that my healing senses were just tired out. My hands actually started bugging me a bit this morning. I didn't want to say anything, because I thought you'd make me leave."

"Connor," Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "So you know how _dangerous_ it is for you to be here if your hands are acting up?"

"Right," Harry said decisively at almost the same time, "get your cloak. It's time to get you out of here before they get worse."

"But" Connor began, only to be stopped in the middle of his argument by two scowling adult faces.

"No arguments," Harry said firmly.

"You can come home with me for a day or two," Hermione decided. "Rachel's been worried sick about you, anyway. It'll do you both some good."

Connor was going to protest once more, but could see that the adults' minds were plainly set. "I'll go say goodbye to Adam."

As he was turning to go collect his cloak and say goodbye, he could hear Hermione saying, "We'll stop by your house to get some things for him."

Connor was sad to be sent away, even though he understood the reason. Still, it didn't seem fair.


	20. Chapter 20 Changes and Adjustments

Chapter 20 – Changes and Adjustments

_Discipline is the refining fire by which talent becomes ability.--Roy L. Smith_

Despite the fact, that Adam had one more day in St. Mungo's, Connor was taken to platform nine and three-quarters at the usual time. He had enlisted the help of Ian and Lucy, but they had been unable to sway their parents' decision that Connor should return to school before Adam was brought home.

Connor was disappointed. He knew that there was really no reason for him to stay home: Adam was almost back to normal, and there wasn't any way for Connor to help him recover that wouldn't be disastrous.

Connor forgot much of his anxiety about Adam during the train ride back to Hogwarts. He understood the close call he had had when he healed Adam as much as he did, and what could have happened to him if he no one had stopped him. Aunt Hermione had kept him up very late one night reinforcing those facts, until he had been hanging his head in shame over his reckless behaviour. Then she had surprised him by bursting into tears and hugging him tightly afterward. Connor would never understand women.

His friends had all heard about Connor's collision accident with Adam, though none of them knew what had truly happened. They all expressed concern for Adam, but soon moved on to other subjects. He listened with half an ear to the conversations going on around him as Zack talked about his cruise and Ivy told them about her holiday. Quentin complained about the constant owls Vanessa had received all holiday long from her boyfriend.

Connor's mind was mostly on the days ahead. He had completed his holiday reading and all of the extra homework that he had been asked to do. He had even successfully managed to eliminate his evening Occlumency without too much trouble, though he found adjusting to the change left him feeling a little tired.

Still, he wasn't looking forward to returning to the daily grind of classes, and then more classes and studying on top of that.

The only bright spot in the near future was the upcoming Gryffindor/Slytherin game. Practices for the match were sure to be intense, and Connor felt like it was up to him to make sure that the boy replacing him on the team fit in. Even though Connor would not be allowed to play in the real game, he looked forward to the preparation; many of the plays they'd be practicing were ones he'd helped develop.

To Connor's surprise, Rupert stopped by their compartment to say that he had heard about Adam and to ask if he was all right.

"He'll be just fine," Connor told Rupert warily. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't really had any trouble from Rupert during the weeks before Christmas, if you didn't count spotting him in Hogsmeade. "How was your Christmas?"

"It was good. My dad bought me just about everything I could've asked for," Rupert said in a slightly bragging tone, but soon deflated a bit to admit, "Too bad none of it will work at Hogwarts."

Connor felt bad for the other boy, and could see at once that his father had tried to use extravagant presents to try to convince his son not to return to school.

"At least you'll have loads of fun with it at the holidays," Connor said consolingly.

"I suppose," Rupert said with a shrug. "My brother Kyle got me a really nice lens for my camera, though. That will work at Hogwarts with no problem at all."

"That's nice, then." Connor smiled encouragingly. He wondered what had brought on this sudden friendly attitude.

"Listen," Rupert said quietly, so that only Connor could hear him. "Thanks for not telling anyone about me being in Hogsmeade that day."

Connor blinked. So that's what this was about. "I hate to tell you this, Rupert," Connor said, "but I _did_ tell. I guess they were more worried about what was happening to me than about punishing you. I'd be more careful in the future."

Rupert looked at Connor for a minute, as if trying to determine if he was lying, and then grunted out, "Well, as long as they're not going to punish me, I guess."

Connor said nothing as he watched Rupert leave the compartment. Snape had probably told the Headmistress that he would deal with the matter, and then conveniently failed to take points from Slytherin for the offence. Connor thought that Rupert would do well to lie low for a while—Snape was bound to be watching him for any slip-ups.

The rest of the train ride was uneventful, and Connor ate his dinner in the Great Hall with his friends, feeling content. It wasn't until the students had finished their meal that the surprise came.

"May I have your attention, please?"

Professor McGonagall's voice carried over the noise of hundreds of voices, and everyone settled down immediately. "I have two announcements to make before sending you all off to your dormitories," she said calmly. "The first is that Mr. Filch, the caretaker here at Hogwarts for many, many years, has resigned his post, and has retired."

McGonagall paused in her speech for the inevitable outbreak of murmuring among the students. Connor simply looked at his friends, thinking that it seemed obvious that the man had been losing his tenuous grasp on sanity every since Mrs. Norris had died.

"The second announcement I wish to make," McGonagall said commandingly, "is the appointment of a new caretaker. Mr. Hank Sweeper has applied and been granted the position in Mr. Filch's place. Though he is, at present, unable to join us for dinner, I hope that you will all make him feel welcome and do everything in your power to make his job a rewarding one. All of the same rules that you were used to under Mr. Filch are still in effect, and you will be expected to abide by them. Thank you for your attention, and I recommend you get a good night's sleep. Classes resume at their normal times tomorrow morning. Good night."

The students took this as their cue, and began filtering out of the Great Hall, toward their dormitories.

"The shortcut?" Quentin asked as they neared a familiar tapestry.

With a smile, they disappeared one by one into the hidden passageway and up to Gryffindor Tower ahead of everyone else.

------------0-----------

The next morning, Connor was woken unexpectedly by a tapping on his dormitory window. A glance at his bedside clock told him that it wasn't even six in the morning: he had another hour's worth of sleep coming.

The tapping persisted, and Connor reluctantly left his warm bed to see Cliodna, his new owl, now perched on the ledge outside.

"Clio!" he said in surprise.

He looked around at the other beds, but all of the other boys seemed to still be asleep. He opened the small window quickly and let his owl inside, before closing it up again against the freezing air outside.

Clio had hopped up to Connor's shoulder, and perched there with a soft hoot, and so he moved back to his bed where he could get his cold feet back under the blankets.

"What have you got for me?" Connor asked the owl, holding out his arm and watched her flutter down to sit on his wrist.

Clio simply hooted again and nibbled at his fingers. There didn't seem to be any note attached to her leg, nor was there anything in her beak.

"You didn't lose a letter, did you?" he asked accusingly. Before coming back to school - he'd only had a week while Adam was in the hospital - but he hadn't completely ignored her, either. She seemed to have a very sweet disposition, and was very affectionate and smart.

She snapped her beak at the suggestion that she had failed to do her job correctly, and then hooted softly again. She carefully walked sideways up his arm until she reached the crook of his elbow, and then brought her face up close to Connor's. Then she hooted softly and butted her head gently against his chin in a sort of caress.

"You didn't have a letter, did you?" Connor asked with amused exasperation. "You were just lonely, huh?"

Clio hooted again in answer, and fluttered up to Connor's shoulder to softly nibble his ear and hair.

"Potter," Andrew Tillman's sleepy voice came from across the room.

Connor looked over to see the other boy peering at him from behind his bed hangings and smiled apologetically.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"I reckon your crazy new owl's in love with you," Andrew said with a chuckle before flopping backward against his pillow again.

Clio snapped her beak at Andrew in apparent derision, then went back to cooing over Connor's hair.

_He could be right_, Connor thought as Clio continued to preen his hair. He felt mildly ridiculous, but she seemed to be enjoying it so much, he didn't have the heart to make her stop.

"Clio," he said after a few minutes of thorough grooming. He reached up a hand and gently stroked her breast feathers. "I need to practice my Occlumency now. You've seen me do it before at home—remember? I need you to either go back to the Owlery, or sit really, really still and quiet until I'm done, okay?"

Clio hooted happily, and Connor tried to shush her. She fluttered from his shoulder to the windowsill, making Connor get up to let her out into the chilly morning air. It was too dark to tell which direction she had gone, but Connor assumed it was to the Owlery.

With a sigh, he mentally waved goodbye to an extra hour's sleep; Clio had been fussing over him for over twenty minutes. He decided to use the time to Occlude, and maybe he would still have time to take a shower before the bathroom became too crowded.

--------------o----------------

Connor got his first look at the new caretaker on his way to breakfast. The man was strangely pale, bordering on pasty looking, and wore drab gray robes that put Connor in mind of a prison uniform. He blended in with the surrounding walls astonishingly well, and Connor only saw him because he almost ploughed right into him while walking by.

"Sorry," Connor said, narrowly avoiding the man. He was relieved to see that Mr. Sweeper (his name was embroidered on the front of his robes in a darker grey thread) was smiling blandly.

"No problem," Sweeper said in a pleasant voice. "Happens all the time."

His eyes were slightly sunken in, and had the same pale grey as his robes, and he had thinning, mousy hair. He seemed to be completely unremarkable in every way possible—Connor found it kind of disturbing. Mr Sweeper eyed Connor for a moment, as if memorising his face, and then continued on his way.

"That was weird," said Ivy as Mr Sweeper disappeared up a flight of stairs.

"Creepy's more like it," Zack said.

"I didn't see if he was carrying a wand or not," said Rachel as they continued on down the corridor. "Do you think he's a wizard?"

"I dunno," Ivy answered. "I guess we'll find out sooner or later."

"Quidditch practice this afternoon," Quentin said, effectively changing the subject from the odd new caretaker. "You up for it, Con? Rachel said you were feeling good as new."

"I'll be there," Connor said with determination.

"Good thing, too," Ivy said under her breath as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table. "Whitney's on a tear. She's insisting on daily practices until the match, in case the holiday made us soft."

"We've still got two weeks until the match," Connor groaned. "When does she expect us to do out homework?"

As if Connor had conjured it up, the morning post arrived, with a letter for Connor attached to a school owl. Another owl landed on his shoulder, and he could tell without looking, by the way she nipped his ear, that it was Clio.

Connor opened his letter while Ivy, Zack and Quentin admired Clio. It was from Professor Lyra, and simply said, "_I have been informed of your recent accident, and wish to check on your defences. Tonight, eight o'clock. Prof. T. Lyra."_

Connor realised that it was going to be a very busy day, and piled enough food on his plate to last him until lunch. Clio sat contentedly on his shoulder, eating the bits of bacon he held up for her, and then took flight when she'd had enough.

"Hungry?" Quentin asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Busy day ahead," Connor said around a mouth full of potatoes. "Need fuel."

Rachel shook her head in amusement, and said, "Sometimes I think you fot the wrong parents. You're more like my dad than anyone else in the family."

Connor merely smiled and kept eating.

It wasn't until they were ready to leave for their classes that Professor Snape appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Mr. Potter," he said without preamble. "You will come to Potions classroom number three tomorrow evening at seven o'clock sharp to assist me in brewing."

"Seven o'clock, sir?" Connor asked, his mood deflating a bit. He was not foolish enough to believe that Snape would rearrange his brewing schedule so that Connor wouldn't miss out on Gryffindor's practice."

"That is what I said," Snape said dryly. "Do not be late."

Connor watched him go, ignoring Quentin's elbow in his back, urging him to ask for a later brewing time. It wouldn't do any good, and would only serve to make Snape irritable.

"I've got to get to class," Connor sighed. "If you see Whitney, could you tell her--"

"No way!" Quentin said with a chuckle. "Nice try, but I don't fancy being yelled at this morning. You need to tell her yourself."

"Some friend you are," Connor groused half-heartedly, and departed for Care Of Magical Creatures with the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins.

----------------o-----------------

Whitney took the news badly when Connor told her that he would be leaving practice early that night, and that he would not be available for practice the next night, either.

"It's just with these extra classes--" Connor tried to explain at lunchtime, to Whitney. But she wasn't in the mood to listen.

"Look Connor," she interrupted abruptly. "I know you've got extra work, but you've got to make an _effort_, here. I really hated to lose you from the first team, and I was counting on you to help get Randall ready for the game. If you can't even manage to come to practices for that, there's not much point of you being on the team at all."

"Would you like to be the one to tell Lyra or Snape that I can't come to the special lessons they've set up just for me, because of Quidditch? I'm sure Snape would be happy to get up at five in the morning to accommodate _you_," Connor snapped. "I said I'd help Randall, and I will. I'm just going to have to cut it off a bit early tonight. If you stuck to the _normal _schedule, we wouldn't even be having a practice tomorrow, and I wouldn't have to miss anything!"

Whitney looked slightly shocked at Connor's outburst. He could tell that she had believed that he was the one who was wrong in this argument, and had expected him to promise that he'd be at every practice.

"I'll concede that I didn't post a new practice schedule with anyone but Madam O'Leary—it's possible Snape didn't know his lesson would overlap our practice time," Whitney admitted grudgingly, making Connor calm down slightly. "Still, you can't be missing practices. We're depending on you. How do you plan on helping Randall if you're not even there?"

"I'm not sure," Connor said with a shrug. "I guess that depends on Randall's schedule. I can work with him one-on-one in the mornings before breakfast, if that would work. I might even be able to get Rachel up to keep for us. But I can't miss any of my lessons, or my homework."

"Your schedule's too full, Connor," Whitney told him with a sigh, also deflating. "Anyone can see that. Are you sure you couldn't get Professor Lyra do her lessons with you earlier, before practices?"

"I can try talking to her, but don't count on it. She's doing these lessons with me as a favour, and I really can't make demands from her," Connor said. "I'm pretty sure she thinks that her lessons are more important than Quidditch."

Whitney reluctantly accepted that Connor didn't have a lot of recourse, and that he would just have to do his best to make practices when his lessons permitted. Connor promised to try to make up the time he missed with special one-on-one training with Randall in their off time.

After lunch, Connor had Advanced Potions, which was a practical lesson. They were brewing a variant of a mild Sleep-Inducing Draught, and Connor felt his turned out fairly well as he bottled it up and presented it for marking.

"Too cloudy," Snape commented as he held Connor's sample up to the light. "I believe you must have lost count of your counter-clockwise stirring in the third step."

"Yes, sir," Connor agreed, making a mental note of it. He looked around to see that there wasn't a line behind him, and took a deep breath. "Sir? About tomorrow: I was wondering if it would be possible to arrange for a later time?"

"No, it wouldn't," Snape answered blandly. "I'll see you at seven o'clock sharp."

"Yes, sir," Connor answered glumly. _At least I tried_.

---------------0---------------

"You're late, Connor," Professor Lyra said when he arrived, out of breath, for his lesson. Her tone was more conversational sounding, than scolding.

"I lost track of time during practice," Connor said while he tried to catch his breath.

"Ah, yes," she said as she looked over his muddy uniform. "Your captain would not excuse you from practice this evening?"

"Not with a match coming up in two weeks," Connor said with a little incredulous match. "She said the same thing about this lesson, actually."

"I think you need your Occlumency more than Quidditch practice, Connor," Professor Lyra said reprovingly.

"I told her you'd say that," Connor smiled.

Connor kept in mind that since Professor Lyra had been home schooled, she had no real first-hand knowledge of inter-house rivalry.

"Did you?" Lyra asked, sounding surprised. "You don't agree?"

"It's not that I don't agree," Connor said quickly. "Especially after what happened on Christmas. I just wish there was a way I could do both."

"I'm not an ogre, Connor," Lyra said dryly. "I'm sure we could work around your practice schedule in the future."

"Really?" Connor asked happily. "That would be great!"

"We can talk about it after your lesson," she said kindly.

With that promise lifting his spirits, Connor sat across from Professor Lyra on the floor. They had both become accustomed to sitting together this way, and it didn't seem odd anymore.

"I'm going to cast a light Legilimens on you," she told Connor as they began. "Did you manage to successfully break from using Occlumency each night?"

"Yeah," Connor said. "Do you think that might be why I had the trouble with healing Adam at Christmas?"

"It's possible that the adjustment my have temporarily weakened your defences," Professor Lyra said. "But I think it was more that you panicked at seeing your brother hurt, and that made instinct take over. That's why I want to use a Legilimens on you tonight. I want to survey any damage to the permanent wall we're trying to build up in your mind."

Connor sat patiently, and tried not to squirm as Professor Lyra's mind prodded at the edges on his own. It was a strange sort of familiarity that was hard to explain, but Connor knew that he would only have trusted a select few people to look inside of him this way.

After a few minutes, Professor Lyra broke her Legilimens on Connor and sighed heavily. "You don't do anything by half-measures, do you, Connor?"

"Is it that bad?" Connor asked with a wince. "I mean, I've _felt_ normal and all."

"You mental shields took a battering," she said, "and then they began to heal themselves the next time you practiced Occlumency after the incident with Adam."

"Isn't that what's supposed to happen?" Connor asked curiously.

"Yes, and no," Lyra said. "Try to picture your mental defences like a brick wall around your mind. The bricks were damaged, and you did your best to fix them. It's good that you've managed to patch everything up so well and that you feel normal, but at the same time, that wall still isn't as strong as it would be if it had never been damaged. Do you follow what I am saying?"

"I understand what you're saying," he said. "What I don't understand is what I can do about it."

"With a the brick wall having been repaired, it loses some of its integrity, but is still strong. However, repeated instances of damage and patching will leave your wall severely compromised." Lyra explained. "What we need to do is to destroy the existing wall, and build another in its place."

"How do we do that?" Connor asked. It sounded like hard work.

"It's much like your previous Occlumency sessions, actually," Lyra said. "You were so dependent on practicing it three times a day, that you allowed the wall to deteriorate to the point that it needed complete restoration each time."

Connor supposed that made sense. It was good to finally see, and be able to measure against how strong he had become since he had started working with Professor Lyra. He hadn't really noticed it before. If what she was saying now was true, is mind was stronger at subconsciously defending itself against outside influences.

"How do I begin?" Connor asked.

"First, you want to meditate. Get a clear vision in your head of the sky, like you normally do," Lyra instructed in a soft, encouraging voice while Connor closed his eyes and began to follow her instructions. "Now, I want you to let the clouds build. Don't try to force them out. You will be vulnerable for a while to all of the outside distractions, so you will need to concentrate. By letting the clouds appear and grow, you're bringing down the wall we talked about. I want you to open yourself up as much as possible, while still remaining aloof. Don't allow you mind to linger on any one image."

Connor was tense as he visualized the clouds in his mind build into large thunderclouds, towering over his conscious mind and beginning to darken as a veritable storm brewed in his head. This was the very thing that he had been battling against letting happen, and now he was being told to allow it. His head began to ache, and his hands began to tingle.

"Now," came Professor Lyra's soothing voice on the edge of his mind, "I want you to build up the wall again. Go through your Occlumency slowly and thoroughly as you can, and push the clouds away until they're completely gone."

Connor was straining with the effort of trying to leash the storm that was attempting to take over. Sweat was beading on his forehead and upper lip, and he was shaking slightly.

"That's it, Connor," Lyra encouraged without intruding. "You're strong enough to do this. Good."

By the time Connor was finished, his head ached and he felt like a wrung-out dishrag.

"That was hard," he said, tired, but proud. "But I did it."

"You certainly did." She beamed at him. "Well done! How do you feel now?"

She rose to her feet and went to fetch a tea tray from a nearby table. A tap from her wand had steam pouring from the spout, and she poured them each a cup. Connor watched as she put a liberal amount of sugar into his cup before she passed it over to him.

"Worn out," Connor admitted, "like I've been awake for days."

"Well, it is nearing eleven o'clock," she said with a chuckle as she offered him a tin of biscuits.

Connor was surprised to hear it, and nearly bobbled his cup. "It's that late?" he gasped.

"It is," she confirmed. "It took a long time, but you did good work. You shouldn't have to practice your Occlumency in the morning."

"Really?" Connor was shocked by this announcement. "It's only been a few days since I quit doing my evening practice."

"Yes, and that went well, despite your accident," she said calmly. "Your work tonight should give you a nice firm foundation to start your independence from every day practice."

"I don't know if I'm ready for that," Connor protested, oddly reluctant to let go of his familiar practices. It was a comfort zone for him that he wasn't keen to step out of.

"I think you are," Lyra insisted, then seemed to understand that he was afraid. "But don't worry. I think that we'll take it slowly. Let's agree to have you practice Occlumency every other morning for the next couple of weeks. We can evaluate from there."

Connor felt relieved to hear this, and readily agreed. "Thank you," he said.

"Now," Lyra said, sipping at her tea, "your Quidditch practice. What's your schedule like?"

"Well, it's usually three evenings a week, half past six to half past eight," Connor told her. "But Whitney—she's the captain—scheduled practice for every night for the next two weeks until the Gryffindor/Slytherin match."

"From six thirty," Professor Lyra mused, "and you'd need at least a half an hour before that to prepare, and you'll need time for meals and homework. Not an easy schedule."

"No," Connor agreed. "Especially with special brewing sessions with Professor Snape, and then lessons with Madam Cosgrove."

"Wouldn't be easier if you just gave up the Quidditch for now?" Lyra asked pragmatically.

"Professor," Connor said in a tone close to being a whine, "I don't want to give up Quidditch!"

"Very well," she said after a few moments contemplation. "Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, at a quarter after four. That should give you enough time for some dinner before practice, and the other days for homework or other lessons."

Connor couldn't stop the he grin splitting across his face. "Thanks, Professor! You're the best!"

Lyra laughed and scribbled a quick note on a piece of parchment on her desk, and handed it to Connor. "A note in case you get caught out after curfew. We'll have your next lesson on Thursday."

Connor shoved the note into the pocket of his uniform, and left the Divination Tower feeling happier than he had expected to. Even the sight of Mr. Sweeper, watching him from the end of the seventh-floor corridor, failed to give him any feelings of guilt about being out past curfew. He had a note from Lyra, after all, didn't he? But the new caretaker didn't say anything at all, just watched Connor disappear through the portrait hole.

He was tempted to try to get one of his homework assignments done before going to bed, but he was just too tired. He showered and climbed into bed, hoping his crazy owl would let him sleep in the morning.

-----------------o---------------

The next morning was rainy. The dark clouds rolling overhead outside were releasing sheets of icy rain that slowly melted much of the snow on the grounds, making a muddy mess outside. There was no temper in the air--no accompanying thunder or lightning-- but it didn't look as though it was planning to stop any time soon.

Connor was almost glad that he wouldn't be able to make Quidditch practice that night. Knowing Whitney, it wouldn't be cancelled on account of a little rain.

The inside of the castle reflected the gloomy mood of the outside. Torches were lit in the corridors, and the ceiling of the Great Hall reflected the grey clouds and rain, giving the room a sombre cast.

The talk at breakfast was about the upcoming Quidditch match and the new plays that they intended to try, that they had not had an opportunity to put into practice at their last game. Whitney was so pleased that Connor was able to make arrangements with Professor Lyra that she didn't even make any comments about him missing practice that night.

Clio turned up halfway through the meal, shaking droplets of rain from her wing, and perched on Connor's shoulder, no mail in evidence. His cheeks heated a bit as she meticulously spent the rest of the meal arranging his hair with her beak while his friends made fun of him.

"I'm starting to think Grandma Molly picked out that silly bird," Rachel told Connor as she watched the funny display. "She's always going on about your hair, too."

"There's nothing wrong with my hair," Connor said with as much dignity as he could with a large owl nibbling at his head, ignoring all of Connor's efforts to coax her down for some bacon. "It's just like my dad's."

Rachel merely arched an eyebrow at him, as if he has proven her point for her.

"My mum loves my dad's hair!" Connor said defensively. "So what if it's a bit messy?"

"You could always grow it long, like Zack's," Ivy suggested. "Then you could just wear it tied back."

"My dad grew his hair out once, before I was born," Connor said. "I've seen pictures, and it wasn't pretty."

"Oh, it was pretty," Rachel giggled. "_Too_ pretty, is what my mum says. She says he looked like he stepped off the cover of one of those romance novels that Grandma's always got lying about."

Quentin snorted into his pumpkin juice.

"I just need a haircut, is all," Connor said as he finished his breakfast and gathered his books. "Maybe I can get Victoria to do it for me. Sorry, Clio, you'll have to go back to the Owlery now."

Clio hooted loudly, and took flight as Connor got to his feet. His mind was already on the day ahead, and his plans to work on some of his homework during History of Magic class so that he didn't fall behind.

---------0--------

That evening at seven o'clock sharp, Connor entered Potions classroom number three and saw that Professor Snape had already laid out ingredients and chosen a cauldron. The man in question was not in sight, so Connor set his schoolbag on a nearby table and went to wash his hands at the sink in the corner.

"Ah," Professor Snape said as he entered from a storeroom. "You're here. You will not take notes, this evening."

"Sir?" Connor asked, puzzled.

"I want you to observe my technique," Snape clarified, "and remember everything I do. You will assist me in preparing ingredients, and be otherwise silent."

"Yes sir," Connor said warily. "Where would you like me to stand?"

The fact that no other students had been offered this chance to watch Snape brew had not escaped Connor, and he felt strangely proud of that fact. This opportunity was possibly for Connor's benefit alone.

"You may situate yourself to my right," Snape answered, "and hand me any items that I ask for, _when_ I ask for them."

Connor, remembering the admonition to remain silent, merely nodded and took a place beside the Potions Master.

"Put this on."

Snape handed Connor a thick apron that looked like dragon hide, but otherwise didn't look at him.

"I will be brewing a Blood Purifying and Replenishing Potion. I will be using three of the shorter hairs that were transferred to your cloak on Hallowe'en." Snape told him. "We will begin with a base of distilled water…."

While Snape was brewing the potion, Connor paid rapt attention to even the smallest details. He made mental notes, and was itching to ask a hundred questions about everything he was witnessing, but remained quiet for fear that Snape would send him away. It was a tricky potion, requiring precision and an experienced hand. Connor was allowed to perform simple ingredient preparation at certain points during the process, and was careful to be precise and quick when Snape demanded tools or ingredients in a terse voice.

Connor was surprised at the how verbose Professor Snape was being.

"Those rosehips need to be ground up finer." Snape would say. Or, "The leech hearts have to be added one at a time, precisely twenty-two seconds apart." Or "A glass stirring rod during this stage will help to keep the temperature from rising too quickly."

Normally a class was expected to read the chapter of their book, and to follow instructions from the blackboard, with very little instruction from the professor. This evening, however, each step was explained and demonstrated while Connor looked on eagerly.

Not sure how much time had passed since they had begun brewing, Connor was enthralled as Snape came to the final step—adding the unicorn hairs from Hallowe'en, held him enthralled. As soon as the hairs fell into the potion, it began to froth before the entire cauldron glowed pearly white and almost bubbled over.

"The potion does not always react so vigorously," Snape said, never taking his eyes off of the potion. "The time of the harvest of the hairs plays a significant role in how strong the potion will be when complete."

Connor nodded, also watching as the bubbles died down and settled to a smooth, placid surface inside the cauldron. After a few moments of silence, Connor finally asked, "Is it complete?"

"The brewing process is complete, yes," Snape answered, sounding satisfied. "The potion itself will need to be poured into an earthenware jar and allowed to mature for a moon cycle. It will then need to be stirred for precisely thirty-one minutes with a silver stirring rod before it can be dispensed."

"Thank you, sir," Connor said after a few more moments of silence. "That was…amazing. I'll never forget it."

Snape gave him an odd look before nodding brusquely and turning to collect an earthenware jar from a locked cabinet. He carefully and neatly transferred the potion over to the jar, and sealed the lid magically.

"You will write out the instructions on how to make this potion from start to finish, based on everything that you observed here this evening," Snape told him. "You will not consult any texts or anything else of the sort to aid you. This exercise will give me some idea of how much you actually absorbed and understood before I allow you to attempt brewing this potion yourself. You have one week to turn it in to me."

Connor was speechless for a few moments. Snape was going to let him attempt this potion? When Snape had mentioned that they would be using the unicorn hairs, Connor had assumed that Professor Lyra had told Snape about Connor's interest in seeing the hairs used. He had never dreamed that Snape would allow him to brew anything of his own.

"Yes, sir," he said with awe.

"Good night, Mr Potter," Snape said by way of dismissal.

Connor returned to his common room, barely registering that it was near midnight, as he sat down at a table by the fire and began outlining everything he remembered about the Potion he had just witnessed.

TBC...


	21. Chapter 21 Breaking Point

Chapter 21 – Breaking Point

_Challenges are what make life interesting; overcoming them is what makes life meaningful. – Joshua J. Marine_

Connor used the next few days to work on the assignment that Professor Snape had given him. He had used the outline he had written in right after their brewing session, and filled in the details, one step at a time, according to his memory. He knew that he was doing a shoddy job on his homework for his other classes, but the lure of being allowed to try such a complicated potion under the guidance of a Potions Master was irresistible.

He handed his three rolls of parchment to Professor Snape on Friday after breakfast, just outside the Great Hall.

"Here is the assignment you asked for, Professor," Connor said as calmly as he could with the tightness in his throat caused by nerves.

Professor Snape had taken the rolls from Connor without looking at them. He looked Connor in the eye for a moment before he nodded sharply and turned away, walking in the direction of the dungeons without a word.

Connor let out an unsteady breath. All he could do now was wait to find out if he'd gotten it right.

------------0------------

"Connor, you look tired," Madam Cosgrove said a few days later as he sat in front of her desk for their first lesson since the holiday.

Snape had ordered Connor to come for extra lessons for two additional nights that week, and had tested him on the preparation and use of native plants in healing. It had eaten into his schedule, but Connor didn't complain at all, to anyone.

"I was up late finishing some homework," Connor told her. "My schedule's been a bit full with the Gryffindor/Slytherin match coming up."

"Yes, I've heard from Professor Lyra about that, which is why I asked to meet with you on a Sunday morning, instead of during the week," Madam Cosgrove said shrewdly.

"I appreciate it," Connor said sincerely. Even if it did mean that his friends were working on finding books to duplicate the Marauders' Map without him.

"Yes, well, let's go through our usual routine, then," she said.

She proceeded to question Connor on all of the things he had read, plus a few of the things that had been in the book that Professor Snape had wanted him to read from the restricted section of the library.

While they talked, Connor told her about the books that his aunt had given him, and she approved of them.

"Her reasoning behind knowing anatomy is sound. Your magic will likely have to work less hard to perform healings if your mind is aware of exactly what the function of each body part is, and how it works in conjunction with the others," Madam Cosgrove said. "I would suggest you devote some time into learning it."

Connor thought of how thick _Gray's Anatomy_ was, and how many long, alien-sounding words it contained, and mentally groaned. Still, he knew that he was expected to learn everything he could to prevent accidental healings as had happened with Ivy and McGonagall, and most recently, Adam.

"Yes ma'am," he answered, with only the hint of a resigned sigh in his voice.

"In fact," Madam Cosgrove said thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her chin. "I'd like you to study your anatomy book for anything it can tell you about the dermal layers of the human hand. We'll turn it into a bit of an experiment. Once I'm convinced that you're thoroughly familiar with it, I'll have you heal one small cut with your wand, and another with your powers, to see which is more effective. I'll write to your parents for permission first, of course."

Connor brightened a bit at this: this was concrete evidence that he was making progress, and gave him some much-needed incentive to study anatomy, on top of everything else. He was managing to find time for everything else, after all--why not one more thing?

-------------0-------------

"Everything all right in there?" Zack asked, tapping Connor on the top of the head before sitting down beside his friend.

"Yeah," Connor said, rubbing his tired eyes, and looking around the library. "Right as rain."

"How are you managing to get everything done?" Zack asked him quietly. "I've been watching you since before Christmas, and your schedule's packed. I'm not even playing Quidditch, and I'm having a hard time getting everything done—I don't know how you're managing it."

"Oh, easy," Connor said airily. "Just a complete lack of sleep of any kind."

"Sure looks like it," Zack said with concern. "You've got dark rings around your eyes, and you're always yawning in class. Do yourself a favour and take a day off to get some rest."

"Maybe after the game this Saturday," Connor said wearily, thinking it sounded like very good advice, really. He'd love to spend a whole day just sleeping and getting caught up. "How's the research coming?"

"What research?" Zack asked, sounding momentarily confused.

"To duplicate the Map," Connor said. "Maybe _you're _doing too much!"

"We're still working with the spell to help us find the books we need," Zack said, rolling his eyes at Connor's attempt at humorur. "Rachel and Quentin aren't too keen to be buried under a pile of books again any time soon. Ivy's been studying up on tracking spells, but hasn't found anything so far that would encompass everyone in the school. It's got us stumped, how it recognises _everyone_ as soon as they come within the boundaries of the map."

"That's a tough one, and I don't think that Lupin would tell us if we asked," Connor said. "I still haven't had time to look up about potions the original Marauders might have used. Maybe this summer, I'll get a chance for a proper look. Aunt Hermione has a _huge_ library full of Potions texts I bet she'd let me look through."

"What are you working on, now?" Zack asked, as Rachel and Ivy appeared and sat down with them.

"I'm trying to get caught up with Transfiguration again," Connor said with a sigh. "I did the wrong chapter summary last time, so I have to go back and do the correct one before out next class."

They groaned in sympathy. Connor knew that if his schedule wasn't so crazy, the mistake would never have happened, and he wouldn't have been rushing to get his homework done at half eleven at night.

"On the bright side, I've got the chapter summary for next week finished," Connor said, trying to sound cheerful. He didn't want his friends to worry too much, or they would start asking him about all of his extra assignments. He couldn't very well explain the books about anatomy and healing if they got curious, could he?

"You should just get Quint to help you," Ivy said. "He can at least tell you what the chapter is about so you can write it down."

"But if Connor doesn't do his own work, what's going to happen when he actually needs to _know_ this stuff?" Rachel said.

Connor smiled, in spite of himself. Rachel sounded so much like her mother for a moment; it was hard to believe she was half Weasley.

"What's so funny?" Quentin asked, emerging from the stacks with three thick books in his arms. He dropped the books on the table and then took a seat between Rachel and Ivy.

"Nothing," Connor said. "Rachel just doesn't want me to get my homework done."

"I didn't say that!" Rachel said indignantly. "I said you should do your own homework."

"Hey, Quint," Zack interrupted, "Connor needs help with the last Transfiguration assignment. He did the wrong one for class, and has to have it done by Tuesday, on top of everything else he's got going on."

"No problem," Quentin said. "He didn't hand back our papers, yet, but I think I probably got a good grade."

Connor rolled his eyes and pulled out a piece of parchment, and loaded his quill. Since when did Quentin _not_ get good grades in Transfiguration? He was easily the best of the third year Gryffindors at it.

Rachel sniffed in disapproval, but was summarily ignored while Quentin dictated what Connor should write. It only took them fifteen minutes to finish the assignment, and Connor heaved a sigh of relief as he waved his wand over the ink to make it dry.

"Thanks, mate," Connor said as he put away his Transfiguration book and pulled out his Potions.

Professor Snape would still expect Connor to have his regular homework done tomorrow, regardless of the three rolls of extra work he had just handed in.

"How is your Advanced Potions class coming along?" Ivy asked when she saw the book he was taking out.

"It's brilliant," Connor said enthusiastically. "It's a challenge, but I'm learning loads of new stuff."

"You can have it," Zack said, making a disgusted face. "There's no way I'd agree to _more_ time with Snape."

Connor just grinned. He could put up with Snape any day for the information and skill his was getting in return.

-----------0----------

By the time the end of the week came around, Connor was surprised that his head hadn't just exploded. On top of all of his class work, Whitney was holding brutal Quidditch practices every night that were more vicious than most real matches ever were. If they didn't beat Slytherin after this, then they didn't deserve to.

Randall was a little green by the end of practice on Friday night, and Connor could tell that the other boy's nerves were already beginning to gnaw at him.

"Don't worry, Randall," Connor said, slapping him on the back companionably. "You'll play great. You'll get up in the morning, you'll get dressed, you'll sick your guts up if you need to, and you'll be fine."

"Thanks," Randall said. He sounded less than reassured.

Connor simply laughed, trying to hide his own depression about not being allowed to play in the game.

"Doesn't feel good, does it? Not being allowed to play?" came an acid voice from behind Connor as he walked through the entrance hall toward the stairs.

Connor spun around to find out who would be cruel enough to rub salt in his wounds. He should have known. "Vanessa." His voice remained calm and cool by sheer force of will as he faced Quentin's little sister. "What do you want?"

"Nothing at all," Vanessa said with mock sweetness. "I already got what I wanted--for you to know how I felt last year."

"You did that to yourself, Vanessa," Connor said mildly, as if bored.

Connor turned to leave, and almost ran headlong into Mr Sweeper again. It was creepy how he kept turning up silently, never really saying anything after that first meeting. The caretaker simply smiled blandly at Connor and stepped aside.

"Sorry," Connor grunted, moving off. He didn't look back at either Vanessa or the caretaker, feeling unnerved by both parties for different reasons.

When he got back to the common room, Connor crawled through the portrait hole to the sound of giggling. It became immediately clear why.

Cliodna was in the common room, perched on the arm of a chair. Beside her, sat Ivy's kneazle, Circe, and the two animals were regarding each other. Connor smirked at the sight, and chuckled when Circle mewed at the owl, and Clio hooted back, almost as if they were having a conversation.

"They've been doing that for five minutes, now," Rachel said when she spotted Connor and joined him near the portrait hole. "It's like they can understand each other."

"Maybe they can," Ivy said as she joined them. "Circe's a very smart kneazle."

"Smart enough to sleep with the one who gives her treats," Connor teased.

It was still a point of contention between Ivy and Quentin that her kneazle preferred Quentin's bed to Ivy's, because Quentin spoiled Circe with bits of chicken that he saved from dinner.

"Connor," Rachel said with a laugh, "don't start _that _up again!"

As soon as Rachel said Connor's name, Clio looked over at the three teens and immediately flew to Connor's shoulder.

"Hello, Clio," he crooned. "Sorry I don't have any treats for you. Looks like I'll have to start carrying some."

Clio hooted at him affectionately and began to use her beak to rearrange his hair. Everyone else in the room laughed at her behaviour. Connor felt his face heat. He spotted Victoria over by the fire, and walked over to her with Clio still nibbling on him.

"Tori," Connor said in a pleading voice. "Could I talk you into giving me a hair cut? It's pretty bad when my own owl is dropping hints about it."

Victoria agreed, and sat him down in a chair at the nearest table before running to get her scissors. When she returned with shears, a comb, plus a towel for Connor's shoulders, Connor handed Clio off to Rachel.

"How short do you want it?" Victoria asked, running her fingers through the unruly mop of hair.

"Do you remember how it looked at the beginning of the year?" he asked. "Short all over?"

"I remember," Victoria said, "Just sit back and relax."

However, Victoria had only cut away one of Connor's locks when a loud screech startled everyone in the room, causing gasps all around.

"Clio, hush!" Connor admonished, when he realised what the noise had been.

Rachel was having a hard time holding onto the owl. Clio was flapping her wings and struggling to get free. She nipped sharply at Rachel's hand, and Rachel reflexively released the bird and stuck her injured had in her mouth.

"That barmy owl _bit_ me!" Rachel complained in disbelief.

"Let me see!" Whitney jumped up from where she'd been sitting at a chessboard, and rushed over. "It's not bad enough to keep you from playing tomorrow, is it?"

"No," Rachel said, allowing Whitney to examine her hand. "The skin's not even broken."

"What's gotten into you?" Connor asked Clio crossly.

"I don't think she wants you to get a haircut," Victoria said.

"Well, it's not up to her," Connor said firmly, taking Clio from his shoulder and letting her perch on his right hand, while he held the sharp talons on one of her feet with his thumb. "You stay put," he told the owl sternly. "It's just a haircut. I've needed one for ages."

Clio looked at Connor in a way that could only be interpreted as sadness. Several younger girls nearby sighed at her with sympathy.

Victoria eyed Clio warily, but combed another section of Connor's hair into her fingers and snipped it off with the scissors.

Clio hooted balefully and clicked her beak at Victoria.

"Cheeky thing," Victoria muttered.

At least Clio was no longer thrashing about.

Victoria continued with the haircut, trying to ignore Clio's noisy protests and angry eyes. Finally, Connor asked Victoria to pause in her cutting and walked to the window. He forced it open and set Clio on the ledge. "Go to the Owlery, girl," he told her firmly.

She glared at him for a moment, and then took flight into the night.

With a sigh of relief, Connor shut the window and sat back down so that Victoria could finish cutting his hair.

"Looks like I was right," Andrew Tillman said, sitting in a chair across from Connor. "Your nutty bird's in love with you, all right."

"At least with my hair." Connor chuckled. "Let's hope she's not too mad at me tomorrow."

------------0-----------

Connor woke up early on game day feeling gloomy. This would be the first Gryffindor game that he would not be playing in since he had made the team. Despite how he had acted the previous night, Vanessa's words had struck a chord, and Connor suddenly wasn't looking as forward to the game as he had been before.

When he looked at the clock, he saw that it was only six in the morning. Too early, but he knew that he'd never get back to sleep. Clio was nowhere in evidence, and so after a quick shower, Connor decided to go to the Owlery with the letters he had written to his family.

Connor knew that everyone had written to tell him that Adam was fine-- that he was even back to attending school, but he still felt worried about his baby brother.

"Clio!" Connor called up into the rafters. He could see the plumes of steam that his breath made in the chilly air.

He could see her up at the top of the Owlery, looking down at him. As soon as they made eye contact, however, she turned her back on him.

"Clio," Connor called again, trying to sound repentant. "Come on down, girl! It's not so bad. I have a letter for home for you to take."

She pretended not to hear him.

"All right, then," Connor said, faking non-concern. "I suppose I'll have to use a school owl, if you think you're not up to it."

Connor pulled his letter from his pocket, sure that Clio would relent and come down, insulted by the suggestion that she might not be up to a flight to Warwickshire. She still didn't budge.

Connor called out for a school owl, and held out an arm for it to perch on, and a pretty brown barn owl began to descend, when Clio suddenly took flight and chased it away. Connor smiled, thinking that he'd won, but once the barn owl retreated, Clio went back to her perch. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or not.

"Clio!" he scolded. "I have a letter to send, and if you're not going to do it, I'm going to use another owl. Now, either come down here, or let the other one down."

Clio stared at him for a few moments, and just when Connor was about to call down the Hogwarts owl once more, Clio fluttered down from her perch and landed on his shoulder. She nipped a little harder than necessary at his ear, and made a mournful hooting sound at his short hair.

"Come on, now," Connor said soothingly, taking her down and setting her on a nearby perch. He talked to her gently while he tied the bundle of letters to her legs.

"Hedwig will be happy to see you, and you can go nuts with Dad's hair. He never cuts it short. Besides, my hair grows really fast, so you should be back to, er, _fixing_ it for me soon."

When it was time for her to go, Clio nibbled lightly at his fingertips in a forgiving gesture, then flew off into the oncoming dawn.

Connor watched her go, then headed back to his room to change into this uniform. It felt strange to put it on, knowing that he wouldn't be playing.

-----------0----------

Connor arrived at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall to find a green-faced Randall staring into a huge bowl of porridge. Whitney was talking animatedly to him and Ivy, who were the only two other players at the table so far.

Connor smirked when he heard Whitney going over the plays that Randall knew by heart by now, and sat down across from her. "Whitney, give it a break," Connor said lightly. "You're going to make him sick. He'll do just fine."

Randall shot Connor a grateful look when Connor interrupted, and an even more relieved look when Connor pulled the porridge bowl away.

"You don't look like you're up to breakfast this morning," Connor said kindly.

"He needs to keep his strength up," Whitney protested.

"Which is why I'm taking away something that'll only make him sick," Connor argued. "He's nervous. You don't want him hanging off his broom, getting sick in the air, do you?"

Whiney simply shrugged and continued eating her breakfast.

Within twenty minutes, the entire team was gathered at one end of the table, and Connor could see that the Slytherin team was similarly situated.

The mood in the Great Hall was boisterous, and there was much more noise than usual. It wasn't until Whitney stood and motioned for the team to follow her down to the pitch that Professor Lyra caught up with Connor and asked him to stay behind for a moment.

"I wanted to give this to you before you went down to the pitch," she said. She was holding Connor's Animus Orb out to him. "I want you to keep a careful eye on it. If it starts to cloud up, or show signs that your mental defences are coming down, I want you to get out of there and come back up to the castle."

Connor took the orb, and watched as it went from smoky grey to a blank state, then gradually turned a crystalline sky blue. "I will," he said, slipping it into his pocket.

"Don't wait around to see if things get better if you start to see it change. I don't care what excuse you use, but get out of there." Lyra admonished sternly.

"I promise," Connor said. "I'll be careful."

She looked him in the eye, then nodded, as though satisfied by what she saw there.

Connor ran to catch up with the team, and went to sit through a last minute strategy meeting and pep talk.

--------0--------

Two hours later, the game was in full swing. Connor watched from the sidelines with the rest of the reserve team as Gryffindor used its best moves. Slytherin was playing dirty and doing its best to unseat Gryffindors, but Quentin seemed to be as slippery as an eel on his 'enhanced' broom. He seemed absolutely fearless as he literally flew circles around the opposing players.

Connor was pleased to see that the extra training he'd managed to squeeze into his schedule seemed to have helped Randall. He was playing smoothly with the other Chasers and rarely missed a hand signal, indicating changes in play.

Happily, Connor found that the crowd was only a mild annoyance, and not nearly as distracting as it had been during the last game, when he had been playing. The Animus Orb was slowing beginning to show some clouds forming, but nothing Connor would consider dangerous. He put the Orb into his pocket and continued to cheer on his teammates.

It was an exciting match. Connor found himself on his feet for the majority of the time, shouting and cheering with everyone else. When the Snitch came out, Connor spotted it almost immediately, as it was hovering barely twenty feet in front of him and was holding a steady position. Whitney and the Slytherin Seeker both seemed to spot it at the same time. The sound in the stands came to an almost screeching halt for a single heartbeat, and then Connor would have sworn that it increased by a hundredfold as the two Seekers went into a steep dive. He held his breath as Whitney's broom seemed to drag a bit in midair, and the Slytherin Seeker gained the lead in the race tot e Snitch.

The next moment happened so quickly that Connor would have missed it if he had blinked. The Snitch, hovering uncharacteristically in place not far in front of Connor, suddenly darted to the side at the Slytherin Seeker made a grab for it. Then, as if Whitney had suddenly learned wandless magic and has summoned it, the Snitch _flew right into her hand_. Connor had never seen anything like it.

The crowed roared in either approval or disappointment, and many began to surge onto the pitch. Connor was about to jump the rail to join in congratulating his teammates when a Bludger abruptly swooped and hit the Slytherin Seeker squarely in the back, knocking him from his broom. There was stunned look on his face as the Bludger hit him, and then suddenly he was tumbling to the ground amidst confused players and fans.

Connor was more than halfway to the injured player before he even realised that he had vaulted over the rail and landed on the pitch. His hands were beginning to itch and heat, and the only thought in his head was to get to the injured boy. Now.

He was pushing through a group of people who didn't seem to realise what had happened when he felt an arm wrap around him from behind, and lift him bodily off of his feet. He struggled against it, not caring that the familiar voice of Professor Lupin was speaking into his ear.

"No, Connor," Lupin said firmly. "Let Madam Cosgrove handle it. She's already on her way."

Connor continued to struggle. It seemed like the most important thing in the world to reach the injured boy, and it was impossible for him to focus on anything else. He felt almost panicked when he felt himself alternately carried, pulled, and dragged backward through the crowd and out of the Quidditch stadium.

"Remus, don't hurt him!"

Connor recognised Ms Grayson's voice a moment before he saw her. She looked fearful as she stepped up behind them, blocking anyone's view from the pitch as Connor was dragged, struggling, away from the crowd.

"This is crazy," Ms Grayson said at last. "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Connor felt his arms and legs snap together as his spine straightened, effectively turning him into a stiff statue, supported by Professor Lupin. The panic inside of him was dying down, the further away he got from the other students, and now he felt horrified at losing so much control that a teacher had needed to restrain him with a Full Body Bind.

"Connor," Ms Grayson said, looking fretful, "I'm sorry, but I needed to stop you. I'm going to Disillusion you now, so that we can get you back up to the castle without you hurting yourself. I'll free you once we get you away from here, all right?"

Of course, Connor couldn't answer her, and didn't know what she meant by 'Disillusion', but he accepted that Lupin and Ms Grayson were only doing what they felt they had to do. Aside from the horror of needing to be physically held in check, Connor recognised that he had very nearly put on a show for the whole school, a display that would have made last year's fiasco with the girl falling from the Astronomy Tower, and his precognition being broadcast to everyone, seem like pleasant little diversion.

The tip of a wand rapped him sharply on the head, then a feeling of coldness rushing over his body.

"_Mobilicorpus_!" Lupin said from near his head.

Connor rose up into the air, with nothing but magic supporting him, and completely unable to move. It was a very uncomfortable feeling. Lupin and Ms Grayson walked along quickly beside him, and stopped once they reached the front steps of the school.

"There's no one around," Ms Grayson said. She rapped him on the head again with her wand, and this time, a feeling of warmth washed over Connor. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he was relieved when she also muttered, "_Finite_." The spells holding him stiff as a board in the air were ended, and Lupin grabbed him by the shoulders to keep him from hitting the ground when they were nullified.

"How are you feeling?" Lupin asked, standing in front of Connor as if he were ready to chase him down and tackle him if need be.

"Better," Connor answered. "I don't know what came over me."

"I think you do," Lupin said grimly.

Connor nodded, and looked down at his shoes, not sure what to expect next.

"I'm sorry, Connor," Lupin said finally. "You're off the team. For real, this time."

Whatever Connor had been expecting, it hadn't been that. His head shot up and his eyes snapped to Lupin's. "You can't be serious!"

"Connor," Lupin said in a tone that brooked no argument, "I _am_ serious. Nothing you can say is going to change my mind. You almost did something very foolish just now, and you were completely out of control. In fact, there won't be any more Quidditch games for you, period. I'm banning you from attending all future games until I have solid proof that you can control your reactions to being around that many people without losing control again."

"But--" Connor said, prepared to argue fiercely.

"_No_, Connor," Lupin interrupted resolutely. "That's my final word. I'll tell Whitney tonight, and I'll send word to your parents. I'm sorry, but it's for your own safety."

A lump formed in Connor's throat; his eyes were beginning to burn. He shot one furious glare at Lupin and then ran past him, into the school. He ran all the way up to Gryffindor Tower and didn't stop until he got to his room.

Once in his dorm, Connor shed his uniform and left it in a heap on the floor. He pulled on his favourite, softest, robes and then climbed onto his bed, drawing the curtains for privacy. He lay back against the pillows, and let the angry tears come, not making a move when he heard the beginnings of a party starting in the common room downstairs. He wasn't in the mood to celebrate, anyway.

At different times over the next couple of hours, Connor's friends tried to get him to come down to the party, or to tell them what was wrong. Connor simply said he didn't want to talk about it right now, and they finally left him alone.

---------0---------

Connor didn't go down to the Great Hall for lunch. His appetite seemed to have fled. He didn't make an appearance at dinner, either, but snuck down to the kitchens for a bite to eat from the elves before sneaking back to his common room.

"Connor." Whitney was waiting for him when he returned from the kitchens.

He swore under his breath. He had been hoping to return to the privacy of his curtained bed before anyone else returned from dinner.

"Look," Whitney said quietly. "Lupin came to see me and told me about your grades slipping and all. I'm sorry that it got you kicked off the team. I kind of feel like it's my fault, what with scheduling so may practices and nagging at you about skipping your extra lessons and stuff."

Connor was confused for a moment before he figured out that Lupin must have used his slipping grades as an excuse to remove him from the team.

"It's not your fault," Connor sighed. "I just have a lot going on right now, and something had to give. I was concentrating so much on Quidditch and my extra lessons, that I let myself fall way behind in my regular classes."

This was not necessarily a lie. He had been doing shoddy work on many of his homework assignments in an effort to keep up, and his professors were starting to take notice, judging from many of the comments on his homework, lately.

"I'm still sorry," Whitney said. "I wish I hadn't pushed you so hard."

Connor shrugged. What could he say? "Without the Quidditch, I should have an easier time," he said, though he wasn't sure he believed it.

Connor went up to his room, hid behind his curtains again and wrote a long letter home before falling into an unhappy sleep.


	22. Chater 22 Surprising Revelations

Chapter 22 – Surprising Revelations

_Every great decision creates ripples--like a huge boulder dropped in a lake. The ripples merge, rebound off the banks in unforeseeable ways. The heavier the decision, the larger the waves, the more uncertain the consequences. --Ben Aaronvitch _

Early the next morning, Connor was woken up by his owl tapping at the dormitory window. Connor wasn't sure why Clio insisted upon waking him up this way instead of just seeking him out at breakfast in the Great Hall, but today he didn't mind. He had slept poorly, and was more than ready to get out of bed.

He was surprised to see that Clio actually had a letter for him tied to her leg, and quickly untied it. There were three sheets of letter-sized parchment, which looked like letters from his parents and the twins.

Clio didn't seem inclined to leave once he relieved her of her burden and was beginning to nip at his ear and make mournful noises over his short hair. To keep her from waking the others, Connor hurried from the room. He went down to the common room to read his mail. There was no one else downstairs yet. A lone house elf was building up the fire as Connor settled into an armchair in front of it.

Clio fluttered up to the back of the chair and tucked her head under her wing, apparently intent on staying for a while. Connor opened his letters and began to read.

_Dear Connor_, his mother had written in her pretty script.

_I'm so sorry. _

_Professor Lupin just contacted us and told us what happened at the match, and that you had been dismissed from the team. We know how hard this must have been for you, but we have to agree that it's for the best-- at least for now. _

_We wish there was something we could tell you that will make you feel better, but we know that you must be angry and upset. We don't blame you. Hopefully, you will work hard with Professor Lyra, and maybe, in time, you will be able to overcome the overwhelming feelings that are putting you in such danger. Obviously we can't write about it in the post, but we know that you understand what mean. _

_Study hard. Use the extra time that this will allow you to strengthen and learn new skills. We love you. _

_Love, _

_Mum & Dad _

Connor sighed. It was pretty much what he had expected his mum to say. There would be no arguing about Lupin's decision, and any pleas or bargains would fall on deaf ears.

As he had expected, Ian and Adam's notes were short, and expressed their outrage at the injustice being visited upon their older brother. In Ian's words: _How unfair is it that they load you up with a bunch of extra lessons for your Occlumency and Advanced potions, and then take you off of the team because you're not working hard enough in your classes? What did the expect? _

Connor grinned at these words, picturing Ian's horrified face when he's heard the news that Connor had been taken from the team. Adam's words had been simpler, but no less heart-felt: _That stinks! _

The next piece of parchment bore Ian's sloppy scrawl, and there was a note from Adam at the bottom on it. The third piece of parchment was from Lucy, and she had filled both the front and the back of her parchment with her neat, tiny writing.

Lucy's letter was calmer, and more thoughtful.

_Dear Connor, _

_First of all, I want to say I'm very sorry about them making you quit the team. I'm not sure I believe it was because of your grades, though_. Connor's heart skipped a beat when he read this, and he paused to think that Lucy sounded like a small adult when she wrote.

_There was something going on with you at Christmas that no one is telling us about, but I can't think what it could be. Ian and I have talked about it, and we're worried that you might be in some kind of bigger trouble than we're being told about. I hope that whatever it is, that you're being careful and taking care of yourself and your friends._

_I hope that none of this has anything to do with the trouble you had last year. It was dreadful to know that someone at the school was causing you so many problems, and that she wanted to hurt you. I'll never forget how worried we all were about you, then, and Mum and Dad seem like they're even more worried now than they were then. _

_Of course with Adam falling from his broom, and him and you both being hurt, I suppose that Mum and Dad had good reason to worry. I hope that your stay at St. Mungo's is all that was making you all act so strangely. Somehow, I don't think so, though. _

_Whatever it is that's going on, I want you to know that you can talk to me if you need to. You've always been the 'special' one out of us kids, and that's been hard for all of us. I understand if you have to keep some secrets because of your precognition, but you really ought to find someone you can talk to about it, too. _

_I miss you. _

_Love, _

_Lucy _

Connor was surprised at Lucy's perceptiveness. He read through her letter again, feeling bad about all of the secrets that he had been forced to keep from his brothers and sister. They were his family, and it didn't feel right not to include them in such important things. Still, he knew that the new discovery of his healing talent had to be kept strictly secret. It didn't mean he had to like it.

Leaving Clio napping on the back of the chair, Connor went up to his room to fetch the letter he had written the night before, and some fresh parchment and a quill. By the time he returned, Clio had woken, but didn't seem inclined to leave her warm perch.

He settled back down and wrote out replies. He assured everyone that he was angry but would be fine. To Lucy, he wrote a special letter insisting that his current troubles had nothing to do with his problems the previous year. and that she worried too much. He tried to make his note as light-hearted as possible without sounding fake.

When he was finished, he bundled up his letters and coaxed Clio into taking them. He watched her fly away from the common room window, then went down to breakfast.

-------0-------

The news of Connor's expulsion from the team had spread like wildfire. The few students that were at breakfast this early pointed as Connor entered the Great Hall and began whispering to each other excitedly.

"Hey, Potter," one of the Slytherins called from across the room, "I hear they finally kicked you off the team!"

Connor made a rude hand gesture at the other student and went to the Gryffindor table, where only a handful of younger students were sitting. They smiled hesitantly at him and looked as though they didn't know what to say. Connor spared them the awkward moment and sat down as far away from them as possible, not looking up at them again.

He was almost finished picking at the breakfast he had didn't really want when Quentin took a seat beside him. Rachel, Ivy and Zack sat down opposite. The looks on their faces told Connor that they knew about his expulsion from the team.

"We're sorry," Quentin said.

"Really sorry," Rachel added.

"Really, _really_ sorry," Ivy said seriously.

Connor's lip twitched.

"Really, really, real--" Zack started, but Connor stopped him by laughing and holding up a hand.

"Okay," he smiled, feeling marginally better, "I get it. You're all sorry."

"Oh, Connor," Rachel said heavily, "why didn't you say you were so far behind in class?"

"I guess I let it slip away from me," Connor said with a shrug. "With all of the extra stuff on my schedule, I just got behind, and never really caught up."

Connor looked around to make sure the his friends weren't doubting his story. Rachel and Ivy looked sympathetic, but Quentin and Zack looked speculative.

"Guess you can figure out where I'm going to be spending most of my day, huh?" Connor said, trying to sound sardonic.

"Don't you have to go and see Madam Cosgrove for your weekly check-up today?" Ivy asked.

Connor was a little surprised at how well his friends knew his schedule. In his misery, he had forgotten about his lesson with matron, himself. "You're right," he said. "I almost forgot."

"We'll meet you in the library when you're done with her," Ivy said, "and we can help you get caught up on your work."

"Thanks, guys," Connor said when they all nodded in agreement. "But I can manage. It's not so much that I'm too far behind _right now_. It's that my overall work and test scores have been going downhill. I need to study, more than anything."

-----------0----------

Connor spent all morning on Sunday being tested by Madam Cosgrove. She had him sit in her office and label a blank chart that depicted all the different layers of a human hand in cross-section. The matron seemed pleased with his answers.

"I want you to study the proper incantation to heal a simple slice in the skin. Next Sunday, we'll let you attempt a wanded healing, and see how you do," she told him proudly.

Connor was a little bit nervous about this, but smiled and nodded before escaping back to his room to find the right spell.

The rest of the day was spent studying in the library (and then the common room when the library closed for the day) and getting caught up on his homework. He could now see how sloppy his recent schoolwork had been when he took the time to read it all through. He'd been in such a hurry to just get it done and move onto the next subject, or to get to Quidditch practice or extra lessons, that he hadn't been paying attention when he should have been.

At dinner on Sunday, Clio came in and sat on his shoulder for the entire meal, refusing to be coaxed into leaving until Connor stood up to leave the Great Hall.

Ivy and Rachel stayed behind to talk with some friends, but Zack and Quentin followed Connor out of the room and fell into step with him.

"You going to tell us why Lupin _really_ pulled you from the team?" Quentin asked.

"I told you--" Connor began, but never got to finish.

"Yeah, you told us," Zack said. "But we're your best mates. You've never missed a homework assignment that we've seen. Even if your scores were low, they wouldn't have made you quit Quidditch. Look at how stupid some of the other players are. I'm surprised that Stewart Bramleyfinds his way back to his common room everyday on his own, and he's been a Beater for Slytherin for two years!"

"Look guys, my grades were getting bad," Connor said evasively. "Even if I didn't miss any homework, the stuff I was handing in was rubbish."

"So? They've never taken anyone off the team for bad grades before," Quentin pointed out.

"I don't reckon anyone's parents asked them to," Connor said, trying to inject a bit of anger into his tone. He didn't exactly say that his parents had demanded that he quit because of his grades, but it was heavily implied. "Everyone seems to think that my extra lessons are more important than Quidditch right now."

Zack and Quentin looked at though they might not really believe Connor's excuse, but were unsure.

"So what was going on with you at the match?" Zack asked. "I saw Lupin grab you and drag you off the pitch."

"I saw that that kid was going to fall just before it happened," Connor lied outright. He was counting on the confusion at the end of the game to make his story plausible. "I was already on the ground, running, before he fell. Lupin didn't want it to look like I had used my precognition to cheat or anything, so he grabbed me before people could start talking."

Zack and Quentin seemed to accept this excuse.

"And then Lupin told your parents about it, and that was that," Quentin guessed.

"Pretty much," Connor said. "That, on top of my grades and everything else."

"Probably still spooked about what happened to Adam as Christmas, too," Zack added.

"Probably," Connor echoed, letting them fill in the blanks in his story. "Anyway, I'm off the team until I can get things back under control, and handle practices along with my other classes."

"So they might let you back on?" Quentin asked eagerly.

"Not anytime soon," Connor said as they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "They expect me to be able to _completely_ control my precognition and Occlumency, on top of everything else."

"How long will that take?" Zack asked.

Connor simply shrugged. "I don't know."

--------------0--------------

Monday morning brought thick grey clouds with it and a promise of snow later in the day.

Connor sat through a mildly interesting Care Of Magical Creatures class, but it wasn't as fun without Zack there. The Hufflepuffs and Slytherins tended to segregate themselves from each other, and Connor usually sat in the centre of the room, between the two groups.

History of Magic was a boring, droning lecture on the introduction of gold, silver and bronze coins as wizarding money, instead of the peculiar flat stones that were precursors to the Galleon, Sickle and Knut. Connor dutifully took notes and paid attention as best he could under Ivy's watchful eye.

At lunch, Ivy and Rachel both seemed inordinately interested in Connor's morning lessons. It took him a few minutes to realize that this was their way of checking to make sure he was paying attention in class so that he didn't fall behind again.

Clio made an appearance at lunch as well, and happily ate the owl treats the Connor fished from his pocket before taking the letter he had written to Clive Sharpe.

He still kept in touch with his first Occlumency teacher and had promised to keep him up to date with his lessons with Professor Lyra. Connor got the feeling that they knew each other, but neither one ever really confirmed it when he asked leading questions about it. They definitively knew _of_ each other, but Connor was unable to find out more.

After lunch, Connor grabbed a apple and a biscuit from the table and shoved them into his pockets before dashing off to Advanced Potions.

Potions was one subject in which Connor had not dared fall behind, nor hand in shoddy work. He enjoyed the challenging lessons, and always had the assigned chapters read before hand.

Snape didn't treat him any differently than anyone else, but at the end of class, asked him to stay behind.

"Your revised notes on the Blood Purification and Replenishing Potion are acceptable. You will come to classroom number three on Wednesday evening at six o'clock to attempt to brew it under my supervision. All of your supplies will be provided. Do not be late."

"Yes, sir," Connor answered feeling as though he might burst from excitement.

He would have to make sure to read over his notes several more times before Wednesday to make sure that he got everything right.

------------0-----------

When Connor got to Defence Against the Dark Arts, he chose a seat at the back of the room. He was still feeling a certain amount of resentment toward Professor Lupin for his decision, even though he knew deep inside that it was the only one that made sense.

His friends sent each other knowing looks, and joined him at the back of the room, even though it looked like it was going to be a very interesting lesson. Ms Grayson was standing at the front of the room, appearing to be very tense, and Professor Lupin stood beside her with a mild expression on his face. They waited for everyone to be seated, before Lupin took up a piece of chalk and wrote one word silently on the blackboard: _werewolves_.

The students shifted in their seats, and Connor quickly turned his page to the chapter that dealt with Lycanthropy. In the normal course of events, today's lesson should have been about kelpies. Why had they skipped ahead?

"I am going to be going out of town on personal business in a couple of days," Lupin announced to the class. "I should be gone for two weeks or more, and I didn't want to leave this subject matter to another teacher to cover with you. For obvious reasons, I believe that I am the most qualified to teach it."

There were a few uncertain chuckles among the students. All of them knew, of course, that their professor was a werewolf, but it was always referred to in broad terms: _I won't be here because of the full moon_, or that sort of comment. The professor didn't shy away from the topic, but he had never really gone into detail about it with the class.

Connor thought he most likely knew more about Lupin's transformations than most of the other students, because Lupin had always been like family to him.

"How many of you here today," Lupin began in a clear, firm voice, "have ever seen a werewolf in wolf form? Pictures don't count."

No hands were raised. Not even Connor's.

"How many have seen pictures?" Lupin asked.

Nearly all the hands in the class rose.

"How many of you know how to kill or incapacitate a werewolf?" he asked calmly.

Connor raised his hand, as well as three other people, who looked less sure about the answer.

"Only four?" Lupin asked with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not asking you how many of you think you could do it, just how many of you know to kill, or bring down, a werewolf."

One of the four thought twice and lowered her hand, and five others raised theirs.

"I see," Lupin said. "Well, that's a starting place. First, let's go over things that can harm a werewolf. Who can name one?"

"Silver?" Bruce Thorne called out after raising his hand.

"Silver's good," Lupin answered. "It will slow a werewolf down, even in his human form. It's a common misconception that a werewolf will flee from the very sight of silver, but should that silver enter the bloodstream, or be ingested, serious illness very much like poisoning will occur. Anyone else?"

Connor dutifully raised his hand.

"Connor?" Lupin called on him with a serious look on his face.

"Beheading," Connor began, "a well-aimed Reductor curse--"

Connor could have continued, but Lupin held up a hand to forestall him. "Good. Beheading is usually effective with most creatures, though there is a high risk involved in getting close enough to do the deed. Simple severing charms are useless in the case, and a werewolf in wolf form is nearly impervious to many forms of magic. Stunning spells, Shield Charms and Body Binds are equally useless. The Reductor curse is most likely to be your best bet from a distance, but your aim must be very good. Who can tell me what a werewolf's most vulnerable point is?"

Connor raised his hand, but Lupin minutely shook his head. He clearly wanted the other students to take a guess. He called on Cleo Valentine, who guessed, "His heart?"

Lupin shook his head. "A Reductor curse is more than likely to rebound off of a werewolf's hide. The most sensitive points are going to be the eyes, nose, mouth and ears. Most specifically the eyes. Your aim should be in destroying the brain."

The class looked mildly ill, and yet fascinated at the same time. Professor Lupin spoke in a commanding voice, with no hint of anger or embarrassment in his tone or expression. Ms Grayson appeared a little paler than Connor was used to seeing her, and she was still holding herself stiffly.

Connor thought back to the kiss that he had witnessed between his teachers, and wondered if she was just disturbed to hear Lupin talking so calmly about ways his students might kill him, should the need arise.

"Muggle weapons," Lupin continued, "have also been known to be effective, if properly aimed. There are specifics in your text book on Muggles who have encountered a werewolf and lived to tell the tale—before their memories were modified, of course. Reading about them will be part of your homework assignment."

No one complained or groaned, as was usual when homework was assigned.

"How many of you would try to kill me if I was in wolf form, and threatening you? Keep in mind that you know it's me—but that's _all_ you know." Lupin's eyes travelled around the room at the uncomfortable students squirming in their seats.

Connor raised his hand immediately, as did only a handful of others. Ivy looked torn, but eventually raised her hand, as did Quentin. Zack didn't, and was looking at the others in surprise.

"Every single one of you should have your hand in the air," Professor Lupin told them. "No exceptions. Everyone who has your hand up now, put them down, and everyone who didn't raise their hand, put them up now."

Connor dropped his hand, and watched as Zack and the others raised theirs.

"Mr Ellis," Lupin called on Zack, "what would stop you from trying to kill me?"

"Well," Zack said. "You take the Wolfsbane Potion every month, so you wouldn't be dangerous."

A few other students with their hands in the air nodded in agreement.

"Wrong," Lupin said simply. "You can all put your hands down, now."

Everyone did, and waited to hear what Lupin would say next. It was as if the entire class had been holding their collective breath since the word _werewolves_ had been written on the black board.

"The Wolfsbane Potion," Lupin said as he moved to stand behind his desk, "is not a cure. It was invented about a quarter of a century ago. Its primary use is to ease the transformation a werewolf goes through at the time of the full moon, so that that the primal urge to hunt and kill humans is abated. It also helps with the physical stress of the change, and the prevention of self-mutilation. Since most werewolves lock themselves up each month to prevent accidents, an un-dosed werewolf will turn on itself. The Potion allows the drinker to keep their human mind and thoughts inside of the wolf's body. It also somewhat tranquillises the wolf, to make it sluggish, and aids in healing afterward."

There was the scratching of quills suddenly, as the students remembered that they should be taking notes on all of this.

"Under the influence of the Wolfsbane Potion," Lupin continued, "the werewolf is still a dangerous dark creature. Should the wolf be provoked, instinct will still cause it to bite, or even kill. A werewolf bite is still infectious to the victim if the wolf that bit them has had the wolfsbane. Never, _never_, make the mistake of thinking that a werewolf that has had the potion is harmless."

Lupin paused to let the students catch up with him in their note-taking and consulted his own notes while he waited.

"My original question was: _How many of you would try to kill me if I was in wolf form, and threatening you?_ If I were in my wolf form and threatening you, you should assume that I had not had any Wolfsbane Potion, and was a complete werewolf in every sense of the word. Without the potion I would not be able to distinguish between a friend or an enemy, nor would I care. Werewolves are killers. They will hunt humans almost exclusively, and are not out to make more of their kind."

"What do you mean?" Darcy Layton asked.

"I mean," Lupin said simply, "that werewolves aren't going to just bite a victim and walk away, happy that they have damned another person to Lycanthropy for the rest of their life. They don't think that way. Propagation of the species is the farthest thing from their mind—they hunt to kill. That's all."

The class fell into thoughtful silence. Then Zack asked what most of them were probably thinking. "How did you become one, then?"

"I was attacked and bitten when I was eight years old," Lupin said. "My father managed to drive the werewolf away with a Muggle gun, and got me to safety."

"And then you were a werewolf?" Darcy asked meekly.

"Yes," Lupin answered. "The infection passed into my bloodstream and began its work in changing me, both physically and magically.

"How long does that take?" asked Daniel White.

Lupin answered thoughtfully. "The magical part happens almost immediately. I was tested with in hours of being bitten, and it was confirmed that I had in fact contracted the disease. The physical part, for me, was more gradual. The bite I sustained took a very long time to heal, and no amount of magical medicines could hurry it along. The rest of the actual physical changes took much longer. For some reason, the physical changes don't begin until after the first transformation takes place. The first transformation into wolf form seems to be the trigger for the rest of the physical changes to take place—if the victim survives the first transformation. Some don't. Muggles don't become werewolves—they just die from the stress to their systems."

"What did people do before the Wolfsbane potion?" Quentin asked.

"They turned into murderous creatures every full moon," Lupin answered bluntly. "My own parents were forced to lock me in a magically reinforced steel cage in the basement of our house. Having no way to escape, and no one else to attack, I turned on myself. I have many scars from youth, where I bit and scratched myself over the years. Magical healing can only do so much, and Lycanthropy carried such a huge stigma with it, that my parents were reluctant to seek out the aid of healers, in case the secret got out, and I was hunted. My family moved around a lot."

"I think that maybe this is where I should come in," Ms Grayson said from the front of the room.

She stepped forward, still holding herself somewhat stiffly, and Lupin laid a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of support.

"Ms Grayson was gracious enough to agree to share her own experiences with a werewolf with the class," Professor Lupin told them. He stepped aside, but stayed close to her while she cleared her throat and began to speak.

Connor sat forward in his chair with interest, wondering what she could possibly have to say. He definitely wasn't expecting her next words.

"My brother was a werewolf," she said firmly, as if it was hard for her to get out. She relaxed a little once that opening statement was made.

_Was?_ Connor asked himself, wondering what she was going to tell them next.

"Martin was three years older than me. He was seventeen when he was bitten, and had just graduated from Hogwarts. An Auror had been tracking the werewolf that bit Martin—it had already killed one person in a nearby village, a Muggle. My parents ran an apothecary, and so my brother and I had gone out in the forest near our house for them, looking for a particular flower that only blooms at night, during the full moon. He tried to shield me, and was bitten moments before the Auror caught up with the werewolf. The Auror killed it before Martin and I were ripped to shreds."

Ms Grayson's eyes had gone out of focus as she spoke, and Connor could tell that she was reliving the memory in her mind. "It was hard for us to believe, at first," she said. "Then the day before the next full moon arrived, and the Auror who had killed the werewolf came to our house, and showed our parents how to restrain Martin, and which spells to use on the shed where they were going to have to keep him during his time in wolf form. He'd brought shackles with him that would change shape with Martin and bind him while he was dangerous. That brought home to us just how serious it all was."

Ms Grayson's voice shook a little as she told her story, but there was not another sound in the classroom. Not one student moved, fidgeted or even took notes. All eyes were on her.

"Soon, we learned how to live with it. The Auror who helped us that first time, continued to come each month for a year, out of guilt, I think, for not arriving in time to prevent Martin's bite." Ms Grayson folded her arms in front of her and said quietly, "My brother escaped his bonds one night two years later. I had just graduated from Hogwarts, and my mother had fallen ill, and we were so focussed on her that we just weren't paying much attention to the Lunar calendar, I'm afraid."

Connor could see that she was shaking slightly, though it wasn't cold in the room. Professor Lupin conjured a glass of water for her, which she paused to drink before she continued in a thick voice.

"By the time my father realized that Martin had escaped, my brother was already halfway to the nearest village. My father followed on a broomstick, but just barely made it in time. My brother—the werewolf that my brother had become—had broken in through the window or a Muggle house, and had the family there cornered. My father was just barely in time to save them.

"He used a silver knife, and threw it so that it stuck into the wolf's side. It was just enough of a distraction to get its attention away from the Muggles. He – it – spun around to face my father, and my father--" Ms Grayson swallowed hard, and had tears glistening in her eyes. "my father used a Reductor curse in his eye. It killed him."

The class was entirely silent.

Professor Lupin put a comforting arm around Ms Grayson, and Connor felt desperately sorry for both of them. More than one student looked teary eyed, and nearly all of them jumped, startled when the bell signalling the end of class rang.

"I want everyone to write an essay on how to recognise a werewolf," Lupin said. He didn't need to raise his voice to he heard, "and a list of all of a werewolf's weaknesses. I should be here for our next class on Wednesday. I'll be leaving on Wednesday night. We'll have questions and answers then."

It was clearly a dismissal, though several of the students looked like they wanted to ask or say something.

Connor collected his books silently and left the classroom with his friends.

"What a way to end the day," Zack commented quietly as they headed back to the common room.

"Poor Ms Grayson," Ivy said sadly.

"Poor Mr Grayson," Quentin added. "Imagine having to kill your own son."

"That wasn't his son," Connor said, suddenly feeling a little angry at fate. "That was a werewolf. His son didn't have any idea what he was doing."

"It's a terrible choice to have to make, though, isn't it?" Zack said quietly.

"Yes," Connor said. "Terrible." He could picture it all only too well in his mind, and shuddered slightly at the mental image of the massive wolf turning, looking down the end of a wand, with no way of knowing or controlling what was going on.

That poor man would have had to go home to his family and tell them what had happened. The Muggles would have needed to be dealt with, and a family was scarred forever by something that wasn't any of their fault.

"Thank Merlin for the Wolfsbane Potion," Ivy said as they climbed the stairs, tearing Connor away from such morbid thoughts.

Connor nodded, but his mind was whirling. The Wolfsbane Potion wasn't working very well anymore, was it? Lupin, and others like him, were beginning to build up an immunity to its helpful properties. Wasn't that why Professor Lupin was going out of town yet again? In search of something better than the Wolfsbane Potion?

And what about Ms Grayson? Connor was sure that Lupin had feelings for her, but what kind of life could they have together if the potion that kept him sane and healthy was beginning to fail? Was that the real reason for all of the trips abroad?

All of these thoughts crowded his mind as he joined his friends at a table in the common room to make a start on their homework.


	23. Chapter 23 Observations & Obliviations

**Chapter 23 -- Observations & Obliviations**  
_Every choice you make has an end result. -- Zig Ziglar_

Connor woke up the next day still feeling tired. He had had dreams all night of werewolves and brewing potions and Professor Lupin and Ms Grayson, all in a strange and meaningless jumble.

The day passed without much of anything happening, Connor was relieved to hand in all of his assignments, knowing that he had done a good and thorough job on them. He took good notes and tried to pay attention in every class.

It helped to know that Ivy was watching him like a mother hen, scowling at him every time he appeared not to be paying attention to his lessons.

After the end of classes, Connor dropped his books off in his room and went for his lesson with Professor Lyra. The earlier meeting time with her was pretty much pointless now that he didn't need to make allowances for Quidditch practice, but it seemed silly and selfish of him to ask her to change the lessons back to the original time.

"Connor," she said in greeting when he arrived, "I'm sorry to hear about what happened at the Quidditch match, and about your place on the team."

Connor shrugged. What could he really say that wouldn't be either obvious or rude? Professor Lyra had done her best to help schedule these extra lessons to accommodate him. It wasn't her fault that he'd blown it.

"Why don't we see if any damage was done?" she asked kindly, gesturing to their customary spot on the floor.

Connor followed her example and took his place cross-legged in front of her. There were no herbs burning today, and the window was open--but no cold seemed to be coming into the room.

"Deep breaths, Connor," Professor Lyra said gently, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand. "Remember how we did it last time."

Connor relaxed and allowed her to probe gently for a few moments until he finally felt her withdraw and saw her smile. "Well?"

"Very good, actually," she said. "Have you even checked the Animus Orb to see what it shows?"

Connor felt his cheeks heat. "I checked it once during the game," he said. "Everything was fine then. Then that Slytherin got knocked off his broom, and that's when everything else happened."

"Do you have it with you now?" she asked without any of the censure in her voice that he had expected to hear.

Connor nodded and reached into his pocket, withdrawing the orb and holding up for Professor Lyra to see. There were a few clouds within the miniature sky, but nothing overly concerning.

Professor Lyra nodded, unsurprised. "Your Occlumency ability is getting stronger as you continually practice it. Soon it will be second nature to you. It's quite an achievement for someone so young."

"I've had good teachers," Connor said with a cheeky grin.

Professor Lyra chuckled. "You certainly have," she agreed. "I think just to make sure that everything is nice and clear in your head, you should go ahead and practice regular Occlumency, like you would have at any time before you quit practicing it daily."

Connor nodded, then closed his eyes to begin.

-------------0------------

On Wednesday morning, Connor sat at the front of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, his anger at Professor Lupin long forgotten. He had done a thorough job on his essay, with the knowledge that Lupin would know if they had just dashed off facts from the book instead of really doing their research.

After the homework was collected, Professor Lupin faced the class and scanned a couple of the essays at random before speaking.

"It appears, at first glance, that most of you are aware of how to differentiate a wolf from a werewolf," he said. He glanced at one or two more papers before saying, "Are there any questions about anything you've read or found while researching your homework?"

Several hands shot into the air.

"Gareth?"

"So, besides being bitten, there's no other way for a person to become a werewolf?" Gareth asked.

"None that I'm aware of," Lupin said seriously, "and I am very aware. I cannot spread the infection to anyone else through either casual or intimate touch, and if I were inclined to bite anyone, I would have to break the skin for there to be any chance of danger."

Connor looked over at Ms Grayson at this point, but her face was impassive. It was obvious, from the way she and Lupin had been kissing at Christmas that she was very aware of the safety issues involved with knowing a werewolf.

"Any other questions? Ivy?"

"What about female werewolves?" Ivy asked with interest. "I've never heard of one, but they must exist."

"Indeed they do, but they're rarer. I'm not sure why," Professor Lupin said.

"Can they have kids?" Andrea Burkette asked.

"No," Lupin said, looking slightly uncomfortable. "There are complications that make even trying it a Very Bad Idea. Any female werewolf who becomes pregnant while in human form will automatically reject the human foetus during the transformation to wolf form."

"You mean, she'll miscarry?" Tim Cole asked without even raising his hand.

"Precisely," Lupin confirmed with a grave nod. "The foetus can't tolerate the physiological changes or the rapid altering of the cell structure. The wolf body rejects the human pregnancy. It's just as well: while there have been no documented cases of a child being born with Lycanthropy, you can imagine what the first transformation would do to an infant."

Connor felt sick at the thought of a newborn baby going through...it was too awful to even consider.

"What about the male werewolves?" Ivy asked. "Can they father children?"

"Most werewolves of either sex undergo voluntary magical procedures to prevent them from ever producing offspring. In fact, the Ministry has a program in place that requires all known werewolves to subject themselves to these procedures," Professor Lupin told them all frankly. "Regardless that it has never been proven that the infection can be passed to an unborn child, the failure to prevent the conception of an infected child is punishable by death or lifetime imprisonment. The same is true for infecting another human being."

Connor was uncomfortable hearing his uncle talking about 'procedures' that he had surely gone through in his youth to prevent his ever having children. Connor had already suffered through an embarrassing and (in his opinion) overly informative discussion with his parents about certain facts of life, and he didn't like to be reminded of it, in any way, in a classroom full of his peers.

"But it is possible for a male werewolf to father human children?" Ivy asked.

"In theory, yes," Lupin said with a nod. "But again, there are no documented cases. Who would ever report such a thing, knowing the penalty and stigma it would carry?"

"No one," Quinten said quietly.

"Any other questions?" Professor Lupin asked, much to Connor's relief. He called on a Slytherin girl in the back row. "Enid?"

"What's _L.D.D_ stand for? I saw it in one of the books I found on werewolf physiology, but I couldn't figure it out." Enid asked.

"L.D.D. stands for Lycanthropic Degenerative Disorder," Professor Lupin answered, enunciating clearly as quills scratched on parchment around the room, "one of the few diseases that is particular to werewolves. It is a disease of the brain thought to be brought on by the accumulation of damage from monthly transformations over a period of years. It is generally marked by a gradual onset of hallucinations, blindness, self-mutilation, and eventually madness: this happens to the afflicted while in human form

Connor shuddered visibly at the description, so calmly given, from a man who had every reason to fear being stricken by such a malady. Connor's vivid imagination supplied his mind with horrible images of his uncle Remus ravaged by such a horrible sounding disease.

"In wolf form," Lupin continued calmly, "L.D.D. presents itself very much as a rabid wolf might: vicious behaviour, even with the Wolfsbane Potion, foaming at the mouth. There is no treatment available, and the only known cure involves the death of the victim of the disease. Any other questions?"

The room was silent as the students all looked anywhere but at their teacher for a few awkward moments. Apparently Connor wasn't the only one with a vivid imagination. Ivy had tears in her eyes.

"All right then," Lupin continued, "let's review what we've learned. Your homework, in my absence, will be a summary of the chapter on werewolves."

The rest of the class time was taken up with discussion and note-taking. When the bell rang, Connor told his friends to go on ahead, and hung back to talk to Lupin.

"Did you have a question, Connor?" Lupin asked warily.

Connor reckoned that Lupin thought Connor was going to beg to be let back on the Quidditch team, or to at least still be angry.

"I just wondered where you were headed this time," Connor said. The lesson they had just had had made Connor feel suddenly more concerned about his uncle than he ever had been before.

"Tasmania," Lupin said. "I'm told there's a Potions Master there who has been working with certain herbs indigenous to that region and has supposedly used them effectively on his son, who is a werewolf. I've written and volunteered myself as a trial case."

"Is that safe?" Connor asked. He looked over at Ms Grayson, who was pretending to sort through the homework papers at the desk a few feet away.

"I'll be fine, Connor," Lupin said kindly while steering him to the door. "I'll be back in a week or so."

Connor nodded and glanced again at Ms Grayson, who seemed agitated, but neither of them said anything to each other. "I'd better go. I don't want to be late for Snape's class. Good luck on your trip."

"Be good while I'm gone." Remus smiled reassuringly. "I'll see you soon."

-----------0------------

By the time classes ended that day, Connor was feeling tense and anxious about brewing the Blood Purifying and Replenishing Potion with Snape that evening.

He tried studying in the common room, but there were too many distractions, and when the entire Quidditch team settled itself nearby and began discussing plays Connor found himself grinding his teeth.

He finally fled down to the library and found an out of the way table near the Potions section where he could revise undisturbed. If only his thoughts would cooperate. _What if I completely screw this up?_ he asked himself silently as he went over all of the proper ingredient preparations. _Snape will never trust me like this again if I don't get it at least mostly right!_

Connor ignored the handful of other students roaming the stacks as he told himself to relax and concentrate. His nerves were jangling, his palms sweating as he took out a clean sheet of parchment, and began listing the order of the ingredients and the procedure for adding each to the potion from memory.

He was nearly halfway finished when a shadow fell over his parchment. It was Ms Grayson.

"You're a hard person to track down, Connor," she said lightly when he looked up. "I tried the common room, and your classmates told me you'd said something about Potions, and then I looked in the dungeons. I checked the front of the library, but didn't see you. I'm glad I decided to take a closer look. Do you mind if I join you?"

Connor was certainly not going to tell her he was to busy after she'd gone to all that trouble to find him. "No," he said, curious as to why she would seek him out. "Have a seat."

"Thank you," she said, taking the chair across from him. She seemed a little nervous.

"Is Professor Lupin all right?" Connor asked, suddenly stricken with the idea that she might be the bearer of bad news of some sort.

"Oh, he's fine," she told him with no sign of distress. "He should be catching his Portkey within the hour, actually. I came to see you because I received an interesting letter today, and I wanted to share it with you right away."

"Share it with me?" Connor asked with surprise. He couldn't fathom why any of her letters might be of interest to him.

"Yes," she said with a nod. "It's from Drina Ayala."

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Connor, and he searched his memory for the answer. He felt like he should know who this person was, and it was just out of reach.

"Would you like a hint?" Ms Grayson said with a wry smile when recognition did not immediately dawn on him..

"Please?" Connor asked, curious.

"She's one of only three, including yourself," Ms Grayson prompted.

Connor's eyes widened. "She's one of the Healers!"

"Got it in one," Ms Grayson answered, holding up the letter in her hand. "And I've just gotten a letter from her."

"Why would she be writing to you?" Connor asked. That didn't make any sense.

"Because I wrote to her," she answered. "I met her once, a couple of years ago while I was in South America."

Connor suddenly remembered the first time Ms. Grayson had talked to the class: _I've spent the past five years in various parts of South America, attending to family business. My grandfather was very ill, and so I went there to care for him and to take care of his coffee plantation._

"Did she _Heal_ your grandfather?" Connor asked. "Is that how you met her? What's she like?"

"I did seek her out for that purpose," Ms Grayson admitted, "but she didn't _Heal_ him in the sense you're thinking of. She listened to my description of his illness, then she gave me some special herbs and potions. Luckily they helped to speed up his recovery. She's a very capable and kind woman."

"So you wrote to her about _me_?" Connor asked.

"Yes, I did." She slid the parchment across the table. "When I overheard your parents telling Remus, I told them that I had met her, and your parents told Professor Dumbledore. He suggested that I send a letter, telling Drina about you, and about our suspicions that you were a true Healer. This was during your first stay in St. Mungo's, after you'd healed Professor McGonagall. I just received her reply today."

Connor looked down at the letter and frowned. "This is in Spanish or something."

Ms Grayson chuckled. "Yes," she said. "Drina speaks adequate English, but doesn't write it. Would you like me to read it to you?"

"I guess," Connor said. Even if it was about him, the letter was still addressed to Ms Grayson, and it felt odd to hear her reading her correspondence to him.

Dear Elizabeth,

What a delight to hear from you again. I was pleased to hear of your Grandfather's recovery from his long illness. The gifts that you sent in payment were unnecessary, but appreciated, and will be put to good use. I can see from your letter that you have returned to England. I hope you have found happiness there once more.

This boy you have written of, this Connor Potter. He is a student of yours, yes? From your description of his experiences so far, it sounds very much like he may be the third Healer that has been so long looked for since dear Halima passed away. It is too much of a coincidence that she left us on the very same day that this Connor boy was born. I feel sure he must be the third. I trust Albus Dumbledore would not be asking you to write to me if he wasn't also sure that Connor is a Healer.

He will need training, and utmost secrecy. There are many who would exploit him for his talents, and he must be prepared for such possibilities. Since Wen Kuaihao will surely not be amenable to taking on an apprentice (especially one who does not speak her language), I feel it falls to me to help the boy as much as I can. I understand that he is currently attending Hogwarts. Once he is free from his classes in the summer months, send him to me. I will do what I can to prepare him.

Write back to me when you know more, and when I should expect him. Some simple Spanish instruction would not be amiss, either.

Yours sincerely,  
Drina

"That's the rough translation, anyway," Elizabeth said, folding the letter back up and looking at Connor with expectant eyes.

Connor, however, was distracted by something, and suddenly leapt to his feet. "Rupert! What are you doing there?"

Rupert Dursley came out of the stacks only a few feet away wide-eyed and looking shaken. "Are you--can you really heal people?" he blurted immediately. "Like without a wand and stuff?"

Connor groaned and sank back into his chair. He had an overwhelming urge to bang his head repeatedly on the table in front of him.

"Mr Dursley," Elizabeth said sternly, "have a seat."

It wasn't a request, and Rupert knew it. He shuffled forward with his brow furrowed and sat down beside Connor. Rupert sat staring hard at Connor for a moment, before Ms Grayson spoke.

"What did you hear?" Ms Grayson demanded bluntly.

"It makes sense, now," Rupert said, obviously adding things up in his mind. "That's why you were trying to get to Arnold Epsom at the match when he got knocked off his broom. You didn't just want to _help_ him, you wanted to _heal_ him...you were fighting Professor Lupin really hard... like you couldn't control yourself."

"It's not like that," Connor said to Rupert in a placating tone. "You've got the wrong--"

"You'll be rich!" Rupert said excitedly. "This is like something different from what normal wizards can do, right? This is something rare; and _she_ said that you were one of only three! You'll be able to name your price for--"

_"Obliviate!"_ Elizabeth said calmly, her wand pointed at Rupert.

Connor felt as stunned as Rupert currently looked. Ms Grayson had just used a Memory Charm on a student!

Rupert's eyes glazed over, and his expression turned slack, as Ms Grayson directed him to go about his business and forget that he'd ever even seen Connor in the library at all. He looked a bit confused and lost as he walked away into the stacks and disappeared.

"You just..." Connor said. He couldn't believe what he'd just witnessed. "You just erased his memory! Can you _do_ that?"

"I'm quite adept at Memory Charms," she said calmly and seriously, "and it was necessary. Normally, I would never, _ever_ use a memory charm on a child. However, he had overheard everything we discussed, and that is unacceptable. I couldn't risk having him tell anyone."

Connor nodded numbly, still reeling.

"I'm sorry, Connor, but it was the only way." She got to her feet once more and tucked the letter into her pocket. "I should go and see the headmistress about this."

"Wait!" Connor said, finally coming out of his daze. "What did the letter mean, _send him to me?_"

"Just that she's willing to take you for the summer to teach you some of what she knows," Elizabeth told him. "It's an invitation. Of course, you'd have to ask your parents' permission, but it's really a brilliant opportunity. You'd be getting the chance to learn from someone who actually knows what you're going through, and what you're likely to go through in the future, first hand."

This was something so outside the scope of anything Connor had imagined that he didn't know what to think about it. He just asked the first question that popped into his head. "And she wants me to learn _Spanish_?"

"I doubt she expects you to become fluent in just a few short months," Ms Grayson said. "But it couldn't hurt you to begin learning some basic vocabulary. Now, I really must go and speak with Professor McGonagall and send an owl about this to your parents, so if you'll excuse me?"

Connor nodded distractedly.

In the past half-hour, he had gone from frantically studying Potions, to hearing a letter about himself from a true Healer, to seeing Ms Grayson modify Rupert Dursley's memory! And now, it seemed, she was working arrangements for him to go to South America over the summer! Could his life really get any more bizarre?

Then he remembered that he had less than two hours before he would be expected to brew a Blood Purifying and Replenishing Potion with Professor Snape.

Strange encounters aside, the potion brewing was the first thing on his list of things he needed to accomplish for the rest of the day. It was the only thing he needed to concentrate on at the moment. The rest could wait until tomorrow, at least.

"One thing at a time," he murmured to himself.

He returned to his notes, desperately trying to call on his Occlumency skills to focus and shut everything else out.

-----------0-----------

Out of breath, Connor skidded to a halt just outside Potions classroom number three. He had lost track of time after dinner, and had had to run all the way from the library. He wasn't late, but he had wanted to be a few minutes early, and he hadn't managed that.

He let himself into the room, where Professor Snape was waiting for him at the front of the room with a cauldron set up and several ingredient bottles lined up in a several long rows.

"Mr. Potter," he said calmly and without preamble. "Don your protective apron and take your place before the cauldron. You will announce each step and ingredient as you go, and I will intervene when necessary."

Connor nodded and dropped his schoolbag in a chair before putting on the heavy apron, then going to the sink to scrub his hands as clean as humanly possible.

"First," Connor said nervously as he took his place beside Snape, "I'm going to put this cauldron away and get the correct one."

Connor looked over at the Potions Master, and could swear he saw the faintest twitch of his lips before they pursed. Snape nodded, and stood silently while Connor collected the correct cauldron and set it in place. "Next, I'm going to prepare my ingredients in the order in which they are to be added to the cauldron, except for those that need to be prepared immediately before being added. I'll start with measuring out the water that will act as the base ingredient."

Connor began to relax as he worked. Professor Snape kept a sharp watch, but remained quietly to one side. Occasionally he would clear his throat, in subtle indication that Connor was forgetting something, however minor. Twice, he asked Connor to continue his narrative as he worked, or asked why a certain step was necessary to the procedure... Connor became so caught up in his work that he forgot that he was supposed to be verbalizing everything. Once, Snape corrected Connor's method of slicing elderflower roots, but offered no other criticism.

"Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two," he counted softly to himself before he added the last leech heart. "And now it has to simmer for three and half minutes," he said as he turned over the proper hourglass, "and then it will need to be stirred with a glass number six stirring rod thirty-nine times counter clockwise, before the quarter dram of essence of pennyroyal is added, three drops as a time."

"I think that you'll find that is incorrect, Mr. Potter."

Connor hesitated. Which of the steps he had listed was wrong? If he didn't already have a sheen of perspiration on his face, this would have caused it. He kept a careful eye on the hourglass as he frantically went over his notes in his head, but came up blank. He was down to the last twenty seconds when he turned panicked eyes to Snape.

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't know--" Connor began imploringly.

"It is a size _nine_ glass stirring rod, counter clockwise thirty-_six_ times," he said patiently.

Connor might have been amazed at the patience and helpfulness of his teacher if he hadn't been so relieved to know what he was doing wrong. He had barely enough time to grab the correct size stirring rod before the three and a half minutes were up.

He was careful to immerse the rod without splashing the potion, then began counting as he stirred.

"And why did you use a glass stirring rod, as opposed to one made of some kind of metal?" Professor Snape asked as Connor added the pennyroyal.

"To keep the temperature from rising too quickly," Connor said automatically, not taking his eyes from his task. They were nearing the end of the brewing process, and he didn't want anything to interfere at this point. "Glass conducts the heat more efficiently."

Finally, after a gruelling three hours, it was time for the final ingredient to be added. Without needing to be asked, Professor Snape produced a small glass phial that held three short unicorn hairs.

"These are not from the same animal you encountered on Hallowe'en," Professor Snape said, "but they are still quite potent."

Connor took the phial and uncorked it. With a deep breath, he gently shook the hairs into the potion, then smiled brilliantly when the surface frothed and glowed a pearly white. Remember Snape's words when Connor had observed this potion before, he was not overly concerned when the bubbles did not react as strongly as they had then. The unicorn hairs that Snape had used before were much more potent.

Soon the bubbles died down and left the surface of the potion calm. The brewing was finished.

Connor let out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding and let some of the tension drain from his shoulders.

"What is the next step?" Professor Snape asked.

"It needs to be poured into an earthenware jar and allowed to mature for a moon cycle," Connor answered promptly. "Then it must be stirred for exactly thirty-one minutes in a clockwise direction with a silver stirring rod before it can be dispensed."

"Correct," Snape said. He was neither smiling nor frowning. "You've done a tolerable job here. I will take care of pouring it into the earthenware jar while you put away all of the ingredients and clean your workspace."

Connor felt as though he could burst with elation. Though Professor Snape's words weren't full of praise, Connor knew that if he had done at all poorly, he would have heard about it. He'd done a good job, and he knew it.

"Yes, sir," he answered with an irrepressible grin.

------------0------------

An hour later, Connor was creeping up the stairs, pockets full of cakes from an impromptu trip to the kitchens on the way back to Gryffindor tower. It was slightly after curfew, and he was trying to reign in his jubilant mood. He didn't want to be caught with obvious contraband from the house elves.

He had just rounded the corner onto the seventh floor when he heard footsteps approaching. Thinking quickly, Connor pulled out his wand and muttered a password at an ancient tapestry. He sighed with relief as it loosened from the wall, then drew it aside to reveal a hidden narrow corridor. He stepped into the dark space and let the tapestry fall back into place, listening hard for evidence that whoever had been coming was now leaving.

Connor began to take shallow breaths through his mouth, just in case he could be heard through the tapestry, and waited. It seemed like ages, but was probably only a couple of minutes, when a set of footsteps could be heard passing by out in the main hallway. A few moments later, the sound of hard-soled shoes could be heard echoing down the staircase, and then faded away.

_That was uncomfortably close_, Connor thought to himself. He wondered who it was that had almost caught him. _One way to find out._

Connor let himself out of the stifling hidden passage, approached the Fat Lady and muttered, _"Commeatus!"_ As the Fat Lady swung open, Connor grinned her, then climbed into the common room.

The room was empty of all but two or three students bent over textbooks, and Connor hurried up to his dorm. Everyone was asleep, so he didn't need to waste time answering questions when he retrieved the Marauder's map from his trunk.

_"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"_

He watched as the lines spread over the surface of the map, and didn't even wait until it was complete to before looking it over. There was very little activity at this time of night, and so it was easy to spot the label that read: "Mr Sweeper" making its way down the stairs toward his quarters.

Connor breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't been the first to be caught by the new caretaker; since he hadn't punished anyone yet, no one knew quite what to expect from him. Connor would gladly let someone else be the first to find out.

Connor was congratulating himself on his good fortune when he noticed movement on the third floor. 

Looking closely at the tiny figure emerging from a certain statue, Connor could just make out the label: "Rupert Dursley". It seemed that Rupert was still using the passage into Honeydukes. Connor made a mental note to keep an eye out for continued visits, and to mention to him that just because there was a trap door in the floor of the sweet shop didn't mean that the sweets were free for the taking.

Tonight, though, his mood was too good to worry about it much. He tapped the map with his wand and muttered, _"Mischief managed!"_ before replacing it in his trunk. With a muttered _"Nox,"_ he settled back against his pillows.

0----------

The next morning at breakfast, Zack came in late and asked, "Did you hear that Mr Sweeper assigned his first detention last night?"

"Who'd he get?" Quentin asked in a low voice.

"Some Hufflepuff fifth year. A girl, I think her name was Michelle, or something."

"What did she do?" Connor asked at the same time Ivy asked, "What sort of punishment did he give?"

"What's the big deal?" Rachel asked. "Filch was always giving out detentions."

"Well," Zack said, his tone indicating that he had some gossip to share. "He caught her throwing rubbish on the floor or something. He made her scrub the floor of the entrance hall, without magic."

Connor thought of the huge open area that served as the entrance hall, and winced. That was a big job, but not _too_ horrible, at least.

"That's it?" Quentin asked with a disappointed air. "So what?"

"According to the Hufflepuffs, he just stood there and watched her the whole time," Zack said. "Just stared at her for four hours while she worked."

"That's creepy," Rachel said.

"Way creepy," Ivy agreed. "He's so...strange looking. He just seems to blend right into the walls."

Connor knew what she meant. It would be disconcerting to have that man staring at you for all that time. "Good thing we've got the map," he said. "I almost got myself caught last night after curfew. He must've been standing right outside of the portrait hole as I was coming back. If I hadn't hidden, I'd have detention myself."

"What were you doing out so late?" Rachel asked suspiciously. "Surely Snape didn't keep you for that long?"

"I was hungry," Connor said. "I didn't eat much at dinner."

Zack shook his head with an amused expression at Connor's appetite, then asked, "What do you reckon he was doing on the seventh floor?"

"Probably trying to catch students out after curfew, just like Filch used to," Ivy said. "We'd better be careful from now on."

Connor nodded. Mr Sweeper was just strange enough to make him wary, and after the first detention the caretaker had meted out, Connor was sure that word would spread quickly among the students.

-----------0-----------

Connor wrote to his parents the next day about the letter from the Healer and his brewing session with Professor Snape. On Friday, Ms Grayson taught Defence class, reiterating everything they had already learned about werewolves.

She didn't speak to Connor again about Rupert, or about Drina Ayala.

On Saturday morning, Connor received a letter from his parents, but they made no mention of Rupert at all. They didn't refer to the Healer by name, either, and only wrote that they were _looking into the possibilities._ They congratulated him on the success of his potion, and sent along a parcel of sweets for him, as well.

Professor Snape said nothing further about the potion until the following Monday. After his regular Potions class, he called for Connor to remain behind.

"You will report to the usual classroom on Wednesday evenings at six o'clock until further notice."

"Should I bring anything with me, sir?" Connor asked, hardly daring to believe he was going to be allowed to brew with Snape on a regular basis.

"No. Everything you need will be provided for you, unless I specifically say otherwise." Snape turned away and strode to his office in his own taciturn way of dismissing Connor.

Connor didn't mind. He knew that this was an opportunity many wizards would jump at, and he wasn't going to waste it.

0---

**_Author's note: Special thanks to Sam Vimes a.k.a. Copperbadge, for his permission to use a portion of his ideas about Werewolves (specifically LDD, though he doesn't call it that), and to Pigwidgeon for her ideas about changing cell structures and her thoughts on the matter._**


	24. Chapter 24 Tests and Trials

Chapter 24 – Tests and Trials

_"Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice; it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." – William Jennings Bryan _

Professor Lupin returned to the school on a Saturday, ten days after he'd left for Tasmania.

Connor knew this, because he happened to be looking at the Marauder's Map at the time, and spotted Lupin walking slowly up the lawn toward the front entrance. Ms Grayson hurried down to meet him, and from the way their labels overlapped slightly, Connor guessed that she was hugging him

They made their way to the castle, seemingly arm-in-arm. Then it occurred to Connor that Ms Grayson could very well be helping Professor Lupin back to the castle _because he was hurt_. Hadn't Ms Grayson told the students that Lupin had been unavoidably delayed on his trip? Connor had taken that as a good sign; perhaps the new potion he'd volunteered to try had worked better than expected. But what if it was just the opposite?

Determined to find out, Connor jumped up from his bed and ran past his startled roommates, through the common room, and out the portrait hole.

As he hurried through the corridors, Connor wondered why Lupin was coming to the castle, instead of going to his home at the Shrieking Shack. Did he need Madam Cosgrove? If he was hurt, why didn't he go to St. Mungo's? Why not take a Portkey straight to the infirmary?

By the time he skidded to a halt at the main entrance to the castle, his mind had conjured all sorts of awful scenarios for his imagination to feed on, and he looked anxiously out the front doors. Lupin had still been closer to the gates of the school than to the castle when Connor had made the mad dash from his room. If they were moving slowly, they might not be visible from the front of the castle yet.

_Or maybe Lupin's collapsed_, his imagination supplied unhelpfully. Connor jogged down the front steps of the castle and down toward the huge oak that was a popular studying place in warmer weather. He wished he'd brought the map along with him, so that he would have some idea of what was going on. He half-expected Ms Grayson to come into view levitating Lupin's unconscious form in front of her.

Connor decided to climb the massive tree a short way to see if it would afford him a better view.

He swung easily onto the lowest branch, and then hauled himself up onto another and another until he was about fifteen feet from the ground, and able to see the forms of two people just over the rise that had been hiding them from the view of anyone on the ground. Ms Grayson _did_ have her arms around Professor Lupin, but she didn't appear to be helping him back to the castle. In fact, they weren't moving much at all.

Connor felt his cheeks heat when he realized that they were kissing rather passionately, and that they had likely chosen to stop in that spot to avoid being seen. Connor was embarrassed to be witnessing such a private moment between his uncle and Ms Grayson, and hurriedly scaled back down the tree and walked quickly back to the castle.

He felt foolish now for suspecting the worst, and running off the way he had. He walked slowly back up toward Gryffindor Tower, cheeks still flushed, chiding himself over the whole episode. The fact that Ms Grayson hadn't been accompanied by anyone else should have been a good indication that Lupin hadn't sent word ahead about being hurt. She had simply gone down to welcome him back after being away for so long, and Connor had believed the worst.

--------0--------

When Connor got back to his dorm room, he found Ivy, Rachel, Quentin and Zack sitting around the map, and looking up at him expectantly. They had obviously tracked him after he'd rushed out, and the memory of what he'd seen made him blush again.

"I knew it!" Ivy said smugly, grinning at Rachel, who was nodding in agreement.

"Were they really kissing?" Quentin asked.

Connor nodded, embarrassed. "I don't think that Lupin would want us using the map to spy on him," he said hurriedly. "I just went down there because I thought he might be hurt or something."

"It's not so surprising," Zack said as Rachel gave the passwords to wipe the map clean. "They were at school together years ago, and they have loads of stuff in common."

"Could we talk about something else?" Connor asked uncomfortably. "I really don't want to think about my uncle's love life, thanks very much."

"What about _your_ love life, then?" Rachel asked with an air of someone with a secret.

"What do you mean _my_ love life?" Connor asked, nonplussed.

"Yeah," Quentin added, "what do you mean _his_ love life?"

"Is there something you're not telling us, Con?" Zack asked with a growing smile.

"No!" Connor denied vehemently.

"That's not what _I've_ heard!" Ivy said in a sing-song voice.

"What did you hear?" Quentin demanded eagerly.

"There's nothing _to_ hear," Connor said, unable to stop his cheeks from heating, even though he knew the girls were only teasing.

"Oh, you didn't know?" Rachel asked with mock innocence.

"Tell us!" Zack said.

"Well, there's a rumour going around that Connor here," Rachel said, obviously enjoying herself at her cousin's expense, "has been meeting someone in secret."

Ivy giggled and nodded.

Quentin snorted in disbelief.

Zack roared with laughter at the horrified look on Connor's face.

"_What_?" Connor spluttered. "Who?"

Rachel nodded and said, "Well, bets are being made that it's a Slytherin, since you've been spending so much time in the dungeons. Apparently you've been seen coming and going from empty Potions classrooms and shadowy corners of the library."

"I've been brewing potions and studying!" Connor said indignantly. "When would I have time for meeting some girl?"

"Connor," Zack said gravely. "You can tell us about her, you know. We're your friends."

"There is no _her_!" Connor insisted.

Quentin leaned toward Connor and asked quietly, "Is it a him, then? We won't judge you, you know."

Connor knew that his friends were just having a bit of fun, but he couldn't stop himself from feeling exasperated. "Very funny," he said with a curled lip. "Are people really saying stuff about me?"

"When aren't people saying stuff about you?" Rachel asked, rolling her eyes.

Ivy took pity on him and grabbed his hand, tugging him down to sit with them on the bed. "There's been some talk that a few girls fancy you," she said soothingly.

"There's been a couple of hopeful rumours--nothing more than that. With Valentine's day coming up, and it falling on a Hogsmeade weekend, it's all talk."

Rachel nodded in agreement. "Probably just some girls trying to get you to ask them to go to Hogsmeade with you."

"Who?" Connor asked. He wanted to know who he should be avoiding.

"Mostly second years," Ivy said dismissively. "No one you need to worry about."

"Unless you really _are_ looking for a date," Rachel added slyly.

"No." Connor said emphatically, relaxing a bit. "That's the last thing I need."

"You're such a heartbreaker," Zack teased.

"_You're_ such a--" Connor began.

He was cut off by Ivy. "All right, enough about that. Are we going to work on the map today?"

"Sorry, I can't," Connor said regretfully. "I have--"

"Extra lessons," the other four finished for him.

"Sorry," he said again. "It's another check-up from Madam Cosgrove. I should be able to meet up with you in the library in an hour or so."

"All right, Connor," Rachel said, sounding as though she didn't really believe his excuse, but not having any reason _not_ to. "We'll see you there."

Connor nodded, and left the room, but stopped just outside the door to listen to what his friends had to say.

"What do you think he's really doing?" Ivy asked quietly.

"Maybe he's telling the truth," Zack said. "I mean, it might seem weird to us that he's always got stuff going on, but every time we've checked the map, he's been where he said he'd be."

"I don't think he'd lie to us without a good reason," Quentin said, sounding stubborn, as though this was an old argument. "I think we should just wait until he's ready to tell us whatever it is he's hiding, if he's hiding anything."

"You're right," Rachel said with a sigh. "I just have a hard time believing that Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry would make Connor keep going for check-ups every week unless something was really wrong with him. What if he's really sick, and no one wants to tell us?"

"He doesn't _seem_ sick," Ivy said.

Connor stopped himself from going back into the room to reassure them that he was fine. If he went back, he'd be too tempted to explain everything and just swear them to secrecy. Then he'd probably have Ms Grayson _and_ Lupin up here casting Memory Charms on his friends.

With a heavy conscience, Connor continued on his way to the hospital wing, wondering how long his friends had been using the map to check up on him.

-------0-------

Connor was surprised to find both Professor Snape and Professor Lyra in Madam Cosgrove's office when he arrived.

"Connor," Madam Cosgrove said without preamble, "Professor Snape has volunteered to be our test subject today."

Connor looked at Snape, then at Madam Cosgrove, not sure what to say.

Seeing his hesitation, Madam Cosgrove continued, "Severus will inflict two small wounds on himself, and allow you to heal each, one at a time, using first a wand and then your Healing talent. I've checked him over thoroughly, and he is otherwise fit and healthy. There should be no interference from other illnesses or wounds to distract you or drain your magic while you work."

Connor swallowed hard. He hadn't expected to perform an actual healing of any kind today, and suspected that it had been planned that way so that he wouldn't have time to worry over it.

"Professor Lyra is here to help in case you have problems with your mental barriers," Snape added. "You've studied this for long enough. It's time to put your efforts into practical application."

Professor Lyra winked at Connor and said, "You won't need me. It's just a precaution."

Madam Cosgrove smiled at Connor encouragingly. "The wounds will be quite shallow. You won't have to worry about anything but repairing the skin. Are you ready?"

"Yes?" Connor said in more of a question than anything. He didn't think that stalling was wise with Professor Snape standing there looking impatient.

"Excellent!" Madam Cosgrove said. She took him gently by the arm and led him over to a small table draped in a white linen, and looked over her shoulder at Snape. "Whenever you're ready, Severus."

Professor Snape joined them, placed his left hand, palm upturned, on the table, and used his right hand to make a sharp slashing motion with his wand over his left palm. An inch-long slice in the skin appeared on the fleshy heel of his hand, and began to seep blood slightly.

"All right, Connor, you know the incantation and wand movement," Madam Cosgrove urged, making no comment about the fact that Connor had flinched when the cut had appeared on Snape's hand.

Connor nodded and pointed his wand carefully. _"Expurgo!"_

There was afaint sizzling sound as the spell cleaned the wound. Connor doubted that such a precaution was actually necessary, but everything he had read had emphasized the importance of always cleaning a wound before healing.

"Good," Madam Cosgrove said approvingly. "Now the healing charm."

"_Sanare_!" Connor said with a slight jab at the cut.

He was gratified to see the wound seal itself and leave behind only a faint pink line as evidence that it had ever been there.

"Not bad," Madam Cosgrove said. "In time, you'll learn to do it without leaving a mark at all."

Connor nodded and looked at Snape, only to find his face impassive.

"Are you prepared to do it without a wand this time?" Madam Cosgrove asked.

"I've never really done it on purpose before," Connor said uncertainly.

"That doesn't matter, Connor," Professor Lyra said as she stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Your magic will know what to do if you allow it to come through. Concentrate on making a small hole in your mental barriers to let the Healing instinct come through. Your magic should do the rest."

Connor took a deep breath, put his wand in his pocket, and nodded. As if waiting for that cue, Professor Snape made another slashing motion with his wand, and another small cut, identical to the first, appeared beside the pink line of the newly healed wound.

Connor didn't feel even the slightest twinge in his hands as he mentally envisioned letting his Healing magic out. He reached out a single finger, and touched it to Snape's palm, just below the cut, and _pushed, _ever so slightly, with his mind. There was a spark of warmth that vanished so quickly that Connor wondered for a moment if it had actually even been there. The wound was gone, as was the faint pink line that his wanded healing had left behind. He felt a prickling in his left hand, and lifted his hand to see a smear of blood, hardly more than a drop, drying on his own palm.

"Excellent!' Madam Cosgrove said with a clap of her hands. She picked up a clipboard and made a few notations on it, smiling broadly all the while. "Severus—your observations?"

"A mild, momentary sensation of heat, and then nothing." Snape said.

"No dizziness, weakness, nausea?" she asked, making another note.

"None," Snape said, examining his hand closely.

Connor stood to the sideand waited. Professor Lyra spoke quietly in his ear. "Make sure your barriers are whole again."

Connor closed his eyes and concentrated, but there didn't seem to be any weaknesses in his mental shields. He smiled at her and then looked back to Snape, who had just been checked over by Madam Cosgrove.

"Your hand, Mr. Potter," Snape said expectantly.

"My hand?" Connor asked. He was so elated at his success that he had forgotten that he had absorbed Snape's injury. "Oh! It's gone."

He held up his hand to show the dried blood, and Madam Cosgrove seized it and looked it over closely, performing several diagnostic charms on it.

"Perfectly fine," she declared, cleaning the dried blood away with a flick of her wand. "How do you feel, Connor? Tired? Dizzy? Nauseous?"

"No, ma'am," he said. "I feel great!"

She made more notes on her clip board.

"Excellent!" she said again. "Wonderful! I think that will do for today. If you experience anything out of the ordinary at all in the next few hours, I want you to come straight back here and report to me."

Connor nodded in agreement, and turned to thank Professor Snape and Professor Lyra for their support.

"Don't think," Snape said before Connor could thanks him, "that this in any way gives you license to use your Healing magic outside of a controlled testing environment."

"I know," Connor said, slightly insulted. "I won't."

"Don't go around using healing charms, no matter how small, either," Madam Cosgrove warned sternly. "It could cast suspicion on you and on these weekly 'check-ups' we've been having."

Connor didn't mention that his friends were already suspicious. He simply nodded and thanked them all before heading to the library to help his friends with the Marauder's Map.

---------0---------

When Connor got to the library, it took him several minutes to find the others, huddled around the map in the most secluded spot they could find. They were crowded into a tiny nook beneath a high stained glass window, in a space hardly big enough for three people, much less five.

"No way anyone's going to sneak up on us in here," Quentin pointed out when Connor asked why they were crammed in shoulder to shoulder.

"Any luck finding the books the original Marauders used?" Connor asked. He felt bad that he hadn't been around his friends enough to know the answer to that without asking.

"It strange," Zack said. "We've figured out the charm to find books that've been checked out by them, but we keep coming up with books about transfiguration."

"And we can't figure out why they'd need to know so much about transfiguration to make a map." Ivy said.

Connor just grinned at them, surprised that Rachel didn't already know the answer to this.

"What?" Quentin asked, seeing the smile. "You know something."

"My grandfather, and two of his friends were probably studying to learn how to become Animagi," he said. At Zack and Quentin's blank looks, he explained: "When Lupin was a school, her friends learned how to become animals, so that they could spend the full moons with him."

"I knew that," Rachel groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I was so focussed on the map, I didn't even make the connection!"

"They became animals?" Zack asked curiously. "Can _we_ do that?"

"Not likely," Rachel said, shaking her head. "It took them years to figure it out, and even then, it's illegal to do it without proper Ministry supervision."

"What animals did they pick?" Zack asked, seeming intrigued with the idea.

"You don't get to pick," Connor said. "I guess the magic chooses for you."

"You four should be learning about it in class this year," Rachel told them. "I've heard McGonagall even comes and gives a demonstration."

"McGonagall?" Quentin asked in surprise.

"She's one of the last people who've registered in the past fifty years," Rachel said. "She can turn into a cat."

Zack was full of questions about human to animal transformations, but Rachel finally brought the subject back around to map making.

"I'm fresh out of ideas," she said. "I think that they used some sort of blanket spell over the entire area within the boundaries of the map, to allow the map to identify everyone on school grounds, but I don't know _how_. There have been thousands of people passing through here since the map was made, and the spell has never needed to be renewed, that we know of."

"I've got a couple of ideas to do with potions," Connor said. "But I want to do some tests first, to see if they're worth following up on."

"Like what?" Ivy said.

"There are certain types of steam that we can saturate the parchment in before we start, to make any charms we cast on it actually become part of the parchment. I got the idea from working with the broomsticks in my dad's factory over of the summer. It's hard to describe, but any charms will kind of soak in and stick there." Connor said. "And then there's this powder I've been reading about that we can mix with the ink, or dust over the ink while it's wet, to kind of track things."

"What do you mean, _track things_?" Zack asked.

"I'm not explaining it right." Connor sighed, trying to translate everything he had read into plain English. "Mixing the powder with the ink, and then using the ink to draw out the map, will show us any entities within certain distance from the walls, or anything else we draw using the ink. It's kind of like a tracking spell, but it won't tell us who or what the entities are – just that they're there."

"I think I get it," Quentin said, looking down at the original map. "All of these dots moving around represent a person or a ghost. We know who each one is, because the labels tell us."

"Right," Connor said, gesturing for him to continue. "So you're saying you can make the dots appear—but not the labels."

"In theory," Connor said with a nod. "I want to try it out by making a test map of a smaller area – like the common room or one of the classrooms."

"That makes sense," Ivy said, "but wouldn't that mean that we'd have to hand-copy the map, instead of using duplication spells?"

Connor nodded, thinking about where they were going to get some of the ingredients he knew were involved in the powder. "We might have to charm each line as we draw it, as well."

"No wonder there's only one map," Quentin said with a sigh. "This bloody thing's turning out to be one big headache."

"Let's make a list of everything we'd need for a test map," Rachel said pragmatically. "From there, we'll know if we're on the right track."

"There's still bound to be several overlapping charms," Zack said thoughtfully. "Even if we manage to get the dots to appear, we're still going to have a hard time figuring out how the map knows who each of those dots are."

"I told you it could take us years to figure it out," Rachel said, wiping the map clean, then folding it up. "Let's get to work."

-----------0----------

Connor and Zack were sitting in the common room working on their homework, while Ivy, Rachel and Quentin were at Quidditch practice. It was quiet, and most students seemed to be off enjoying their weekend somewhere, or else trying to get caught up with their studies.

"Con, can I ask you something?" Zack asked as he took out his Potions book.

Connor looked up and saw the book, and nodded, thinking that Zack had a questions about his Potions assignment. "Sure. What's up?"

"Are you sick, or something?"

Connor put down the quill he had been using to take notes, and asked carefully, "Do I look sick?"

"No," Zack admitted, "but you've been a bit…odd since Christmas break, and you were in St. Mungo's over the holiday, and then when we come back, you're having all of these check-ups and extra lessons, you had to quit Quidditch, and you're not in most of our classes anymore…"

Connor looked down at his parchment, wondering what he should say. All of this was true, but he couldn't tell the truth about all of the changes. "Look," he said after careful thought, "I've got some personal stuff going on. I'm not really allowed to talk about it."

"But you're not sick?" Zack pressed. "Rachel's worried that you're dying or something, and that no one's telling us."

"I'm not sick," Connor said firmly. "Not really."

Zack stared at him for a few moments, then seemed to accept this answer. "Not really? Has it got something to do with your precognition? You've had all those extra Occlumency lessons with Professor Lyra, and you haven't been getting up early to practice anymore."

"Something like that, yeah," Connor said, looking around to make sure no one was trying to listen in. He leaned further across the table, and Zack did the same. "I'm not supposed to talk about it, but things were getting out of control. You remember what happened after that one Hogsmeade visit, when I had to go to St Mungo's the first time?"

Zack nodded with wide eyes, listening intensely to every word.

"That was the beginning of the problem. Ever since we went to the Ministry last year and got hit by those stunners, my powers have been getting stronger." That wasn't necessarily a lie—it just wasn't the whole truth. "All of the check-ups and Occlumency lessons are to make sure I can keep it from getting out of control again. I have to make sure that my mind is strong enough to keep everything from crashing in on me at once. It's working fine, but I can't afford to stop the check-ups and lessons."

"What would happen if it crashed in?" Zack asked, biting his lip.

"That would be…bad." Connor closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that Zack wouldn't be able to tell that he was keeping a lot of things from him. "I could do wild magic and hurt myself or someone else, maybe. That's why I can't play, or go to Quidditch anymore. There's too much going on, trying to get in. Or my brain could decide to try to shut down again. Understand?"

Zack nodded and sat thinking silently about everything that Connor had told him. "So why the secrecy?"

"There's other stuff going on, too, but I just want to be normal," Connor said with a trace of real bitterness in his voice. "My parents don't want anyone knowing how vulnerable I am. Remember last year, when it got out about my precognition? I guess there's people out there who'd love to see Harry Potter's son lose his mind or something. Especially all those people who keep wanting me to predict the future and stuff, and then get mad when I won't. Not that it's going to happen, but there's people who'd do stuff to try to push me over the edge."

Zack looked horror-struck at the thought. "So, why the extra Potions classes?"

"Oh," Connor said, sitting back with a genuine grin, "I just really love Potions, and I'm good at them."

Zack blinked at the sudden change of mood, then laughed. "You really like them enough to spend extra time with _Snape_?"

"He's not so bad," Connor said with a laugh. "Well—not to me, anyway."

"You can have him," Zack said, making a face. "So. You'd tell us if you were in trouble or sick or something, right?"

"I'd tell you," Connor promised.

"Good."

---------0--------

After Connor's conversation with Zack, things seemed to settle down a bit with his other friends. It was obvious to Connor that Zack had shared what he'd been told with the others.

On Monday morning, Connor spent his time in History of Magic making a list of ingredients he would need to make a powder that could be added to ink on a map. Ivy occasionally glared at him for not paying attention to Binns, but he merely smiled at her, and flipped another page in the potions book he had concealed inside his History book.

"Where am I going to get Thestral tears?" he muttered to himself.

"What about Snape's private storage?" Quentin asked in a low voice.

"You take care of that for me, okay?" Connor whispered back sarcastically.

Quentin only smiled, shook his head and chuckled.

At lunchtime, Connor continued to study the book he'd found in the library titled, _Potions in Cartography_. He was making two lists, scratched out on a scrap of parchment, keeping track of which ingredients he wanted to try for both the powder for the ink and for the magical steam.

After lunch, in Potions class, he made sure that his list and the book were well out of sight. Connor didn't want Snape asking any awkward questions about his extra-curricular activities. Luckily, the lesson wasn't a practical one, so Snape had no reason to wander around the room to inspect their work. Connor made sure to pay attention and take notes, not making eye contact with Snape at all.

Connor met up with Ivy and Quentin in the corridor after Potions, and walked with them to the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom. Connor was distracted, thinking about the map, and absently took the biscuit that Ivy offered him, munching on it before he realised that his friends were laughing at him.

"What are you--" he began, and then felt the peculiar, yet familiar feeling of feathers sprouting from his head. Instead of finishing his sentence with _laughing at?_ a loud chirp came out. He'd eaten a Canary Crème.

A moment later, the floor was littered with yellow feathers as Connor molted, and the corridor was full of laughter.

"I can't believe you fell for it!" Ivy giggled.

"I can't believe you did that to me!" Connor said in return, laughing also.

Just then, Professor Lupin stepped into the corridor to let them into class, and saw all of the feathers. He lifted an eyebrow at Connor, who still had one or two feathers in his hair, but said nothing. The feathers were gone with a quickly muttered, "_Evanasco!_" from Lupin, and the students made their way into class.

"How are you, Connor?" Lupin asked as the entered the room together.

"Better than you, I reckon," Connor said, looking Lupin over for signs of obvious injury while he scratched at his hands.

"Do you need to be excused from class?" Lupin asked quietly, seeing Connor's scratching.

"No," Connor told him honestly. "I'll just sit in the back. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'll be just fine," Lupin said, stepping away from Connor. "If you need to leave during class, go right ahead."

Connor nodded and went to the back of the room. No one seemed to find this odd, since he had lingered in the doorway with Lupin too long to claim one of the favoured front row seats, anyway. Once he was seated, the itching nearly vanished, and Connor quickly nodded to Lupin as a signal that he was fine.

It was troubling, though, that his uncle was making his hands itch. The Occlumency had been keeping things out lately, so Connor had to conclude that Lupin's illness, or injury, or whatever was wrong with him, had to be relatively serious.

Ms Grayson was absent during the lesson, which students spent taking notes on kelpies. Lupin spent the time leaning (seemingly casually) against the front of his desk while he lectured, convincing Connor further that he was in some sort of physical distress.

At the end of the hour, Connor gestured to his friends to go on without him, and remained behind, hoping to have a word with his uncle.

"Connor," Lupin said calmly after everyone else had gone, "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be around me right now."

"Is this why you were late coming back from Tasmania?" Connor asked from where he was sitting in the back of the room.

Lupin considered his answer for a moment, and then said, "Yes."

Connor stood up and collected his bag, but stopped walking toward the front of the room when Lupin took several steps backward.

"You won't…" Connor began, startled that Lupin would back away from him. "I can still be near you. It doesn't bother me that much. The potion you went to try didn't work at all?"

"No," Lupin said with a sigh. "The potion apparently works on the inventor's son, but I experienced a full transformation, without the Wolfsbane Potion to help keep me sane. I was fortunate that they had shackles and a magically fortified shed to hold me for the duration of the full moon."

Connor took a shocked step forward, out of the instinct to comfort his uncle.

"I don't want to risk it, Connor," Lupin said firmly, holding up his hands to ward Connor off. "You _are_ making improvements in your defences, but I won't be the one to help you test them."

"But, I wasn't going to try anything," Connor said, feeling a little hurt.

"It only took a few seconds near me before your hands started to itch," Lupin said pointedly.

"Can't Madam Cosgrove help you?" Connor asked, backing away toward the door, just to appease Lupin.

"There's only so much that can be done with self-inflicted wounds for a werewolf," Lupin said. "It just has to be left alone to heal as best it can. This isn't the first time I've gone through this."

_No_, Connor thought bitterly. _Just the first time in decades, likely._ "What if I tried, with--" Connor began, but was cut off immediately.

"_No_."

"But what if Madam Cosgrove and Madam Lyra were there to supervise?" Connor protested.

"I heard about your progress this weekend," Lupin said, sounding tired. "But there's a huge difference between a couple of tiny cuts and what's wrong with me."

"Why won't you let me _try_?" Connor asked angrily.

"Because I don't ever want you to know what it's like to feel this way," Lupin said, just as angrily, keeping his voice very low so that Connor had to strain to hear him. "You don't just Heal people, Connor! You actually suffer their wounds! I won't let you do that. Not for me."

Connor glared at Lupin for a few moments, then spun on his heel and left the room.

He made his way up to Gryffindor Tower without stopping to speak to any of the students who waved or called out greetings.

What good were his stupid powers if they wouldn't even let him try to help people with them?

He knew the answer to that, of course, but at the moment it didn't seem to matter. He hissed the password at the Fat Lady and climbed into the common room to find his housemates all laughing over Clio, who was perched on a chair just out of reach of Ivy's kneazle, Circe, who was trying to bat at the owl's tail feathers.

"Hey Connor, what's up?" Aiden asked when he spotted him.

"I don't want to talk about it," Connor said miserably. He ignored everyone else, and stomped up the stairs to him room in a temper.


	25. Chapter 25 Unfortunate Mistakes

**Chapter 25 - Unfortunate Mistakes**

_Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives.--Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray)_

Connor was still angry with Lupin the next few times they met for Defence Against the Dark Arts. He chose a seat at the back of the classroom and refused to make eye contact with his uncle, even when called on to answer a question. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he didn't care. Family helped each other. Connor would have agreed to any kind of precautions or supervision that they could have asked for, if only they'd give him the chance to see if he could help to heal Lupin's wounds from the most recent full moon. Lupin wouldn't even listen to him.

Ivy had tentatively asked why Connor was acting so odd, but Connor had only scowled and said that it was a personal problem with his uncle, and that he didn't want to talk about it.

Valentine's day came and went with Connor receiving several anonymous cards and flowers delivered during breakfast, but he was almost sure that they had come from friends and cousins intent on giving him a hard time. He ignored them and went to Hogsmeade that weekend with his friends as usual.

During his brewing sessions with Snape, Connor forgot everything but whatever project Snape decided to set for him. Sometimes Connor simply stood off to one side and observed a particularly difficult potion, and sometimes he was asked to perform ingredient preparation or to answer seemingly random questions. It didn't escape Connor's notice that every potion they worked on had some sort of medicinal properties about it.

Always at the end of a brewing session, Snape assigned Connor the task of writing out everything he remembered about each potion and its procedure. He wasn't promised a chance to brew any potions on his own again, but Connor felt confident that the opportunity would arise at some point, and tried to be patient.

In the little spare time he had, Connor worked on securing potions ingredients for the magical steam for the test map he planned to try out, and found that his uncles Fred and George were only too pleased to help him find what he needed with few questions asked. There was nothing really dangerous in the list of things he had asked them for, so he didn't expect word to travel to his parents about it. Even if it did, there wasn't anything incriminating about it, really, other than the fact that he hadn't asked his parents to supply him with what he wanted.

With a little luck, he thought he should be able to imbue several sheets of parchment with the magical steam by the beginning of April. Then they could work with the powder and ink to see if they were on the right track.

Two weeks after their argument Professor Lupin gave up on trying to subtly put things right between himself and Connor, and not-so-subtly asked Connor to stay after class.

"Connor," Lupin began without preamble as soon as the last student had left the classroom one Friday at the beginning of March, "I understand that you're angry with me for not allowing you to try to help me, but I think that you _can_ realise why it's not an option."

"Why isn't it?" Connor asked stubbornly. "You were hurt and in pain, and I could have helped you. I even offered to have Madam Cosgrove and Professor Lyra or anyone else you wanted as a precaution, but you wouldn't even listen."

"Because you already know why it's a bad idea," Lupin said patiently. "I'm a werewolf, Connor. You take on the wounds of anyone you use your Healing talent on—it would be ten times worse for you to bear than it is for me. Plus, there's the risk of passing the infection to you. There's no telling what might happen, and if there's even the remotest chance that you could be infected, it's not worth it."

"But it wouldn't work that way," Connor argued. "I could just heal your immediate wounds. You wouldn't be passing any blood to me, so I couldn't be infected."

"You don't know that," Lupin says flatly. "What if your cells mutated while you were trying to heal my injuries? There's no way of knowing how your magic will react. What if it decided to try to cure me of Lycanthropy, but couldn't fight it off once you'd absorbed it from me?"

"It wouldn't happen that way," Connor protested. "If your Lycanthropy was curable with my Healing magic, then my hands would itch when I'm around you _all the time_. They don't. They only itch right after your transformations, when you're hurting, and sometimes not even then!"

"I realise that you're not always affected by being around me," Lupin said calmly. "That's not the point. The point is that you don't know what trying to heal someone with my physiology would do to your system. We just don't know enough about how your Healing magic works. It's evident that it's even different from the other Healers—they don't absorb their patient's injuries or feel their pain the way that you do."

"So why not go to one of them?" Connor challenged.

"Connor," Lupin said quietly, "do you really think it hasn't been tried by now? Why do you think that these healers often live nomadic or solitary lifestyles? There are people who would go to almost any length to be cured of various conditions; some worse than Lycanthropy. If it was possible, I would have sought one of them out years ago. It's just not going to happen, and especially not for you, where there's a chance of you being irreversibly affected."

"But I want to help," Connor said in a choked voice.

"I understand," Lupin said sadly. "And I appreciate it more than you know. _You_ understand why I can't allow it, even if there was a possibility. There's just too much we don't know about the boundaries of your abilities. You don't have enough control to put a stop to a Healing if something begins to go wrong. There are too many factors working against you right now."

"What if I learn to control it? What if I find out some day that I could help you?" Connor asked, grasping at straws.

"That's still years away, Connor. I sincerely hope I find a solution to my situation before then," Lupin said with a half-smile.

--------0-------

Lupin's arguments and explanations made sense. It didn't stop Connor from being unhappy about the situation, though. He determined to learn everything he could about cell structure and human vs. werewolf physiology in an effort to find out if he would ever be able to help his uncle. He pored over _Gray's Anatomy_ late at night when his friends were asleep and made notes with questions he had about what he read. He wasn't making much progress, but at least he was doing _something_.

It was mid-March when Quentin discovered that the Marauder's Map could show them the Quidditch pitch, and that they could watch the other teams' practices on it. Ivy thought it was too much like cheating to spy on the other teams that way, but Rachel pointed out that because the map didn't show the Quaffle or Bludgers or anything, it wasn't really that dishonest.

In the end, Quentin and Rachel began to keep track of the other teams' practice schedules and to watch the map with interest as the Hufflepuff/Slytherin match approached. Connor wasn't sure about the ethics of spying on the other teams, but he was glad that he now had a way to watch the matches that he was banned from attending. It wouldn't be the same, but he wouldn't be totally left out either.

Connor's grades improved as he was able to pay more attention in class and spend more time on his homework. Over the next weeks, things fell into a routine that Connor was comfortable with, and his friends all seemed to believe that things were back to normal. They stopped casting worried looks his way and even began a small, innocent prank war with Hufflepuff house to keep them all amused.

Connor was able to make the magical steam he wanted to try in the last week of March. He stayed up late into the night, using one of the many secret passageways to work in, and used up five entire scrolls of thick parchment, infusing the paper until the liquid in his cauldron was completely boiled away. He left the parchment in the passageway to dry and collected it the next day, pleased with the job he'd done. In fact, Connor was just congratulating himself on how well everything was going.

That's when he had the dream.

He couldn't decide if it was a precognitive dream, or if he was just the result of too little sleep and eating too many sweets just before bedtime, but he woke with only hazy memories, and an overwhelming feeling that Rupert was in danger. As he came fully awake at one thirty a.m., he was breathing heavily, and had an indistinct picture in his head of Rupert being dragged under the surface of the lake outside.

He lay back down against his pillows, but the image wouldn't leave his head. Finally, he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep until he was sure that Rupert wasn't out wandering the grounds. He retrieved the Marauder's Map from his trunk and activated it, looking for a label in the dungeons that read: _Rupert Dursley_.

When he found proof that Rupert was in his room, probably asleep, Connor put the map away with a sigh and went back to sleep.

-----------0----------

On the last day of March, Connor got caught sneaking back to Gryffindor from the Owlery, just three or four minutes after curfew. He thought he'd had plenty of time to make it there and back, but he hadn't counted on Clio's overly affectionate nature, and she'd spent fifteen minutes cooing over him and grooming his hair (which was growing back quickly) before agreeing to take a letter to Connor's family for him.

Sweeper had been at the base of the steps to the Owlery, seemingly waiting for him, and had startled Connor badly when he said, "You're out past curfew, Mr Potter."

Connor had been so surprised that he hadn't even thought to try to argue his way out of a punishment. He just stood there and nodded when Sweeper had told him that he wouldn't report the curfew violation to Connor's Head of House, but that he _would_ issue a detention.

"Detention?" Connor asked warily, wishing that Sweeper would go to Lupin. He'd have a better chance of getting out of a punishment, then.

"I think cleaning the Owlery is a fitting punishment, since that was where the infraction was committed," Sweeper said with a creepy little half-smile on his lips. "There wouldn't happen to be a young lady up there, would there, waiting to sneak down after you?"

"No," Connor said, momentarily confused, then suddenly realising what the man meant. He thought Connor was using the Owlery to meet a girl. "_No_, I was just sending a letter home."

"Tomorrow night at seven, then," Sweeper said, seeming unperturbed. "Off you go, back to your common room, now."

Connor didn't wait to be told twice. He hurried back to Gryffindor, only looking back once to see Sweeper start walking up the Owlery stairs, presumably to check that it was vacant for himself.

"What took you so long?" Quentin asked when Connor crawled in through the portrait hole, breathing heavily. "You're lucky you weren't caught."

"I _was_ caught," he said, throwing himself into an armchair across from the sofa where Quentin and Zack were sprawled.

Rachel and Aiden looked up from where they were playing chess. "You got caught?" Aiden asked with a grin.

"By Sweeper," Connor confirmed with a grimace.

Aiden's grin fell. "That's rotten luck," he said sincerely. "What happened? Did he give you a detention?"

"Got to clean the Owlery tomorrow night," Connor said glumly. "Probably without magic.

"Ew," Rachel said with feeling.

Connor nodded in agreement. "It's not going to be fun, that's for sure."

"Especially if Sweeper's there staring at you," Zack said, "like he's been doing for every detention he hands out."

"Who's got detention?" Ivy asked, coming down the stairs and squeezing onto the small sofa between Zack and Quentin.

"Sweeper caught Connor out after curfew," Zack said, scooting over to give her more room as she sat. "He's got to clean the Owlery tomorrow."

"That man is just gross," Ivy said with disgust. "He made Trina Borman cry by just looking at her last week when she was writing lines for him. What a way to spend a Friday night."

"Even Filch wasn't this bad," Quentin said.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day when I'd miss old Filch," Aiden said sadly. "Don't worry, Connor. We'll all write letters tomorrow and come up to mail them at different times tomorrow night, so you don't have to be up there alone with him."

----------0---------

Connor woke on Friday morning, dreading his detention that evening. The day seemed to speed by, and not even talk of the Hufflepuff/Slytherin match the next day was enough to ease the knot in his stomach.

There were April Fool's day pranks being pulled all over the school, but Connor couldn't even work up the enthusiasm to try to pull any himself. Though it had the effect of making others look at him suspiciously all day long, as if expecting something surprising to happen. In the end, the surprise was that Connor had done nothing to celebrate the day.

At a quarter to seven, Connor left his common room and met Mr Sweeper at the bottom of the steps to West Tower where the Owlery was located.

"I'll be taking your wand until your detention is over," Sweeper said in a dry voice that made Connor want to convulsively clear his throat. "You'll be doing this without magic."

Connor had figured as much from the reports of other detentions he had heard about.

"I didn't bring it," Connor said. "I didn't think you'd let me use it, so I left it in my room."

Sweeper eyed Connor silently for a minute, as if he didn't believe him, but then relented with a nod. "I've put everything you should need up there. Get go on and get started, and don't let me catch you talking to anyone. I'll be back to check on you in a few minutes."

"Yes, sir," Connor said, hardly daring to believe his luck. Maybe Sweeper wouldn't be spending the entire time staring at him while he worked.

Connor climbed up the steps to the cold spaciousness of the Owlery, wrinkling his nose at the droppings and bones littering straw strewn across the floor. There was an ashcan off to one side of the large circular stone room as well as a broom, dustpan, scrub brush, mop and two buckets full of soapy water. There was no ladder, so Connor supposed that he wasn't expected to clean the high rafter that the owls used as perches. In fact, the rafters already looked clean enough to make Connor suspect they were charmed to stay that way. Why the floors weren't charmed as well was anyone's guess.

"I think a rake might have come in more useful," he said to himself as he picked up the broom.

Surveying the area, it seemed to make the most sense to start at one side and work toward the other. First he used the broom to sweep the windowsills clean of debris, _and_ then began to sweep all of the soiled straw to one side of the room. It wasn't long before he heard footsteps on the stairs and wondered if it would be one of his friends, or if Sweeper had returned.

It turned out to be neither. Professor Lyra appeared in the doorway, holding a small parcel in her hand. She looked surprised to see Connor there with a broom in his hand.

"Hello, Connor," she said. "I wondered why the bottom of the stairs was roped off. There's a sign down there that says _closed for cleaning_, but I needed to get this package out this evening. I expected it would be Mr Sweeper up here."

"Detention," Connor said, not pausing in his sweeping.

"Ah," she nodded, holding out her arm for a pretty screech owl that fluttered down to her. "What did you do?"

"Got caught out a couple of minutes after curfew," he admitted. "Mr Sweeper was at the bottom of the stairs when I left here, and he gave me a detention cleaning up here."

Lyra nodded as she used her wand to secure the parcel to her owl's legs, then went to the window to release it. "Tough luck," she said, making a face at the dirty straw.

Connor nodded as he retrieved the dustpan and scooped up some straw. He dumped it into the ashcan, which glowed green before Vanishing the pile that had just been dropped into it.

"That's handy," he said, more to himself than to Professor Lyra.

"I thought I told you no talking!" Mr Sweeper's voice called up the stairs, accompanied by the sound of his boots climbing up.

He appeared a moment later with a sour expression on his face, holding a thermos and a teacup in one hand and a folding chair in the other. He looked like he had been planning to make himself comfortable in the room while he watched Connor work.

"Sorry," Professor Lyra said cheerfully. "That was my fault. I asked him what he did to deserve a detention."

"Caught him out after curfew," Sweeper said, eyeing Professor Lyra with something akin to caution.

"Yes, that's what he said," Professor Lyra said politely. "But now that _you're_ here, I wonder if I could impose upon you to help me a bit in my classroom? There's a stain on the stones by my desk that no amount of Scouring Charms seems to get out. Do you think you could come up and have a look at it and suggest something for it?"

"What, _now_?" Sweeper asked rudely.

Professor Lyra remained unperturbed. "If you wouldn't mind, terribly, yes."

Connor made sure that he was not looking in the adults' direction when he smiled at Sweeper's reaction.

"I, er, I should really stay to supervise…." Sweeper hedged, clearly not keen on leaving.

"Oh, I'm sure Connor can be trusted to do the job without supervision for a little while," Lyra said, walking toward the stairs and giving him no choice but to agree or appear very unhelpful. "He's very dependable."

"Right," Sweeper said faintly, setting down the chair and thermos. He gave a final look at Connor before following Professor Lyra down the stairs.

Connor could have sworn that Lyra winked at him before turning to go, but he didn't stop to dwell on it. The more he could get done while Sweeper was occupied, the less time he'd have to spend under the caretaker's eerie gaze when he came back.

It didn't take too long to get rid of all the straw and sweep up all of the remaining dropping and animal bones littering the space. Before long, the work warmed Connor, and the cold air coming in from the pane-less windows didn't bother him. Once the floor was swept clean, Connor took a scrub brush and one of the buckets and set to work scrubbing the stone floor while owls flew in and out overhead, occasionally dropping feathers or less pleasant items onto the floor.

He was about half finished scrubbing when Sweeper finally reappeared. He was wearing brown robes this time, which Connor hadn't noticed before, but which made his presence all the more obvious in the room because he didn't blend into the walls as he usually did. Sweeper sat in his chair and re-warmed the contents of his thermos before pouring himself a cup of tea.

His gaze never left Connor, and Connor could feel the staring eyes on him as he worked.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only about fifteen minutes, Sweeper broke the silence. "Never thought I'd have cause to say I had Harry Potter's son in a detention."

Connor paused in his scrubbing, but could think of nothing to say to that statement. He resumed working.

"Heard he had a kid with strange _talents_. Read it in the Prophet last year," the man continued.

Connor did his best to ignore the words since Sweeper hadn't really asked any questions.

"So it's true, is it?" Sweeper asked after a few more moments of silence except for the steady rhythm of the scrub brush on the stones and the fluttering of owl wings as the birds came and went. "You got strange talents?"

"Mr Sweeper?"

Connor had never been so glad to hear Ms Grayson's voice as he was when it floated up the staircase just then. "Are you up there?"

"Who's that?" Sweeper called down.

"It's Elizabeth Grayson," came the disembodied voice. "I was wondering if I could have a word?"

Sweeper looked over at Connor with an almost accusatory glare, as if Connor had conjured up the interruption through force of will, but called back down the steps, "I'm comin' down."

Connor could not hear whatever it was Ms Grayson was saying to Sweeper, but was sure to take advantage of the time to get the rest of the floor scrubbed.

Connor worked quickly and finished the scrubbing without doing a shoddy job that might make Sweeper ask him to repeat the job properly. Sweeper came back more than thirty minutes later, mumbling about teachers who couldn't do a thing for themselves and wondering aloud how Filch had lasted all of those years. Connor said nothing.

The second bucket and the mop became the next step, and Connor was careful to mop up the dirty scrubbing water as he went, and then to use the clean water to rinse the floor. Sweeper watched him but made no comment. Sweeper finally levitated a bale of straw through one of the windows and onto the centre of the floor, and told Connor that it needed to be spread evenly over the entire surface of the Owlery floor.

Connor was about halfway finished with the straw when Clio returned from Potter Headquarters with a letter tied to her leg.

"Hello, girl," Connor greeted her quietly, stroking her breast feathers gently as he took the offered letter.

"You can just hand that over to me until you're done, Potter," Sweeper said, standing to take the letter from Connor's hand. "You aren't here for fun."

Connor would simply have shrugged and completed the job if it hadn't been for Clio. She took immediate offence at Sweeper presumption with the letter she had just delivered and nipped angrily at the man's fingers as if to say, _That letter doesn't belong to you_!

Sweeper waved his arms at Clio, but the owl was not having any of it. She began to squawk and hoot wildly, flapping her wings and agitating the other owls in the rafters to noisy complaint as well.

"Make them stop!" Sweeper demanded as Connor watched in fascinated delight.

"I can't," Connor said. "Only the one is mine. Clio! Stop that!"

Clio was not inclined to listen to a reprimand and continued to harass Mr Sweeper and beat her wings at him.

"Clio!" Connor admonished. "Leave him alone!"

After a few more moments of a disgruntled owl assault, Sweeper thrust the letter at Connor and told him to leave.

"You're done here," Sweeper said, arms over his head for protection against wings and claws. "Just get out!"

Once Connor took the letter, Clio calmed at once, landing on Connor's shoulder as he fled down the stairs and to his common room.

---------0---------

The next morning at breakfast, the Great Hall was abuzz with students speculating about the Quidditch match that would take place in just a couple of hours. Connor was slightly depressed that he wouldn't be allowed to attend, but took comfort in the fact that he could at least follow some of it on the map. He was curious to see what the Quidditch stadium would look like in the map when it was full of people.

"I can't believe Clio attacked Sweeper!" Rachel said with amazement over breakfast after Connor had told her about his detention.

"Brilliant," Ivy said with a laugh.

It hadn't been too late when Connor had gotten back to Gryffindor, but Rachel and Ivy had already disappeared with half of their room mates to do _girl stuff_ in their dormitory before he'd returned.

"Circe doesn't like him either," Ivy said of her pet Kneazle. "I had her with me the other day, and she kept growling and hissing at him when he passed me in the corridor."

"I don't blame her," Zack said as he scooped up more porridge. "There's something _off_ about that man."

"Well, I think I got off easy," Connor said around a mouthful of bacon. "At least he wasn't there to stare at me the whole time."

"You know," Quentin said thoughtfully. "I think some of the teachers are showing up during detentions on purpose."

"How do you mean?" Rachel asked, curious.

"Just, I've heard that a first year Slytherin boy got a detention earlier in the week, and Snape showed up during part of it to talk to Sweeper, and I heard the same thing happened to a Ravenclaw sixth year, except it was Professor Thompson that showed up."

"I'm surprised Lupin didn't show up for you, as well," Zack said.

"Full moon started at four this morning," Rachel said. "He'll have been getting ready and will probably be out until at least Tuesday."

_At least he has his potion this time_, Connor thought gratefully, distracted for a moment from the conversation.

"You think the teachers suspect something about Sweeper?" Zack asked.

Quentin shrugged. "Maybe they're just checking him out or something. He's new here, and there's been a lot of talk about him making kids cry and stuff."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll get sacked before next term," Zack said hopefully.

"I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you," Connor warned. "They kept Filch around for ages, and that man was just plain _mean_."

They all looked gloomy at that statement, and Connor simply shrugged. "So who's the favourite for today's match?"

"I think Slytherin," Rachel announced, "but Hufflepuff has been doing really well, too."

"They play fair, though, and Slytherin don't," Quentin pointed out. "Hufflepuff's going to get eaten alive."

---------0--------

Connor had assured his friends that he didn't mind that they were going to the match without him, practically pushing them out through the portrait hole when they hesitated.

"I'm going to watch it on the map," he murmured to them quietly. "Go on and have fun!"

He'd climbed the stairs to his room then, and taken out the map to watch their progress as they walked down to the pitch. The stadium was about half full by the time Connor activated the map, and people were sitting so close together that the dots that usually represented each person were invisible behind the overlapping labels for each person's name.

The stadium filled quickly, Connor soon lost sight of his friends, though he knew the general area they were sitting in.

It soon became obvious that Hufflepuff didn't stand a chance against Slytherin. Watching the players' dots speed up and down the pitch on the map, Connor could see that the Hufflepuff Keeper was a reserve player and that he wasn't up to playing in a real match. It didn't take long for the Slytherin team to pull ahead by almost two hundred points by Connor's calculations, even without being able to see the balls-- and that was before the Snitch was caught.

Connor sighed. He wasn't really missing much of a match, at any rate. A handful of people were already leaving the pitch – most likely in disgust at the slaughter going on. Connor didn't blame them.

Looking more closely at the students heading back to the castle early, Connor saw that one of them was Rupert Dursley, and he was moving relatively fast, and walking alone.

"What are you up to, Rupert?" Connor asked the dot on the map.

He followed Rupert's progress back to the castle, and it didn't take long for Connor to realise that Rupert was heading for the statue on the third floor that would open up into the passageway to Honeydukes' cellar.

Connor toyed with the idea of going down there to try and stop him, but shrugged and watched Rupert eventually disappear off the edge of the map. He hadn't had any problems with Rupert in weeks, and didn't really want to start any now. He'd send Rupert a note later today about making sure he paid for anything he took from the sweet shop, and then mind his own business.

A few minutes later, Connor watched as the players came to a halt on the map, presumably landing on the ground. The Slytherin team appeared to be piled one atop the other, and Connor had no real doubt that they had won spectacularly.

The stadium began to empty of spectators, Connor was about to put the map away when he noticed Rupert reappear at the boundary of the map, moving quickly back in the direction of the castle. He appeared to be running, which was no easy task in that tunnel, but Connor supposed that Rupert was trying to get back to his common room to share his ill-gotten gains with his housemates for the party that was sure to be in the making after the Slytherin victory.

There were sounds of feet on the stairs outside of his room, so Connor wiped the map clean and stowed it back in his trunk before anyone could spot it, then went down to the common room. It was another ten minutes before his friends showed up, pink cheeked from the cold.

"That wasn't a Quidditch match," Aiden said as he burst into the common room. "That was a massacre!"

"What was the final score?" Connor asked as Rachel, Ivy, Zack and Quentin came in.

"Three hundred and fifty to sixty!" Zack said with a groan.

Connor winced. "Ouch."

"You can say that again," Ivy said. "I'd bet Yuri Mikelov is resigning from the Hufflepuff team right now."

"Reserve Keeper," Aiden explained to Connor, unaware that he'd been able to see some of the game on the map. "He was complete rubbish."

"Too bad," Connor said. "What happened to their regular keeper?"

"Rumour has it that a Slytherin _accidentally_ tripped her and made her fall down a flight of stairs this morning," Aiden said with disgust. "Broke her arm."

"They should really know better than to let their players walk around by themselves just before a match," Whitney said from her place by the fire.

Connor agreed with her, but thought it was a shame that it was true.

-------0------

"I've got some stuff to work on in the library," Connor said to his friends Sunday morning after breakfast, giving them a meaningful look. "Do you guys need to finish up any homework?"

On Saturday afternoon, Connor had received the last of the Potions ingredients he needed. He had spent a good portion of the evening with a mortar and pestle, making a fine powder by crushing all of the components together, and readying them to be added to a bottle of ink. Now he was ready to try it out on the parchment he had prepared a week ago.

"Let's go get our books, and we can all go down together," Rachel said brightly.

The others agreed, and they were soon ensconced at the tiny table they had used before.

"I used a pencil to lightly sketch the common room," Connor said. "I didn't want to waste any of the parchment or ink by messing it up now. It's copied straight from the Marauder's Map, and I'm going to draw it in the special ink by making the lines right beside the pencil marks so that the graphite doesn't interact with any of the ingredients of the ink."

Everyone nodded, and Connor got started, mixing the powder and the ink. He made slow, deliberate strokes as he went, his tongue caught unconsciously between his teeth

Sitting at the little table, shoulder to shoulder, everyone leaned away from Connor, so that he wasn't hampered in his movements. They all sat silently watching as he completed the last line with the ink.

"Nothing happened," Ivy said as the map was completed.

"It has to be charmed first," Zack said.

Connor nodded in agreement. "It also has to be done while the ink is still wet," he said, moving to stand up. "I asked Zack to do it, since he's the best of all of us at Charms."

"You'd better hurry," Quentin urged. "The ink is beginning to dry."

"The powder I added should keep it from drying too quickly," Connor said. He nudged Zack forward, though, gesturing for him to do the charm.

"_Firmare_!" Zack said, pointing his wand at the parchment and smiling in satisfaction when the lines on the map glowed blue. He tapped the surface of the parchment, and small black dots appeared scattered over the surface of the map of the common room. By the patterns of the dots, it was easy to tell where the tables and sofas were situated, and where the staircases and portrait hole were by the way the dots appeared and disappeared at the boundaries of the test-map.

"Brilliant!" Ivy said breathlessly, while Quentin nodded fervently and Zack jumped up and punched the air in excitement.

Rachel was grinning from ear to ear. "Now we just have to figure out how to make the map recognise who the dots represent," she said eagerly.

They spent the rest of the day in the library, until Madam Pince chased them out at three so she could close, but they didn't learn discover anything new. Their spirits weren't dampened at all, though, since they had unlocked a part of the puzzle of the map.

"Next, we need to figure out how to make a password for the test map," Quentin said as they went back to their common room. "We don't want anyone finding out what we've been up to."

----------0---------

On Monday morning, Connor noticed that Rupert was sitting in the middle of a group of Slytherins that were a year or two ahead of him. Connor reckoned that showing up with a bunch of sweets for their victory party on Saturday had earned Rupert a large group of fair-weather friends. It didn't escape Connor's notice that one of Rupert's hands was crudely bandaged, and he wondered if he had gotten his hand caught in the trapdoor that led to Honeydukes' cellar. If Rupert had hurt it any other way, why hadn't he gone to Madam Cosgrove to have it healed? Maybe he was afraid of getting into trouble if the truth about it came out?

Connor reminded himself to send Rupert a note about paying for the sweets.

The rest of the week passed uneventfully, though Connor and his friends worked continually on researching ways to improve the test map of the common room. They took copious notes and even made up three more identical test maps in case anything went awry with the first one. With the end of year exams approaching, no one seemed to think that the extra amount of time that Connor and his friends were spending in the library, or with their noses in books, was odd.

Rachel found the spell to protect their works-in-progress with a password, and chose the simple words "Test Map!" to make the lines appear and "Done Now" to wipe it clean. Perhaps not overly inventive, but effective, just the same.

Connor's _extra lessons_ were progressing nicely.

Professor Lyra felt that there was really not much more that she could teach him about Occlumency. Her time spent with Connor in the Divination tower was cut down to once a week, and even then only for about twenty minutes while she checked to make sure that he was coping well.

Madam Cosgrove was letting Connor heal small abrasions and bruises with his wand almost every weekend by the end of April, with Professor Snape as the test subject more often than not. Connor wondered how he was going to get a chance to heal more serious wounds in the future. Surely they wouldn't go so far as to deliberately break Snape's bones or burn his skin or anything like that just to give Connor practice at wanded healing, and Connor wasn't keen on Healing such things without a wand, for obvious reasons.

Potions continued to be Connor's favourite subject, he was a quick and eager student both in class and as Snape's assistant on Wednesdays. Snape continued to treat him as harshly as anyone else in class and seemed to hold his written essays to a higher standard than the other students when grading. Wednesdays, though, were not graded, and began to have a much more relaxed atmosphere once Snape seemed assured that Connor knew his place and what was expected of him.

In mid-April, Connor received a visit from his parents. They met in Professor McGonagall's office where he learned that he was, indeed, going to be spending a portion of his summer in South America. Drina Ayala had made an arrangement with the Potters, and agreed to take Connor into her home to teach him what she knew. Drina apparently lived in a small village in Peru near a huge lake, and she asked that Connor make some effort before arriving to learn some basic Spanish phrases.

Connor only sighed a little when Ms Grayson gave him a book and offered to help him learn Spanish during the remaining weeks of school.

Finally, the beginning of May arrived and with it, warmer weather and stressed out fifth and seventh year students with O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s approaching. It was as if the Easter holiday had transformed normally calm, happy students into frightening shadows of themselves, capable of nothing but eating, sleeping and studying. Connor spent a lot of time studying out on the grounds in order to avoid the angry glares that inevitably came his way at a quill that scratched too loudly, or a conversation above a whisper.

On the first Wednesday of the month, classes were over, and Connor was sprawled on a blanket beneath a giant oak tree with his friends, going over his History of Magic notes without enthusiasm. He had to make up for months of inattention in class before his exams in six weeks.

"So what are you working on with Snape tonight?" Zack asked as he tossed down his Transfiguration book with a loud sigh.

"Probably a Calming Draught," Connor said with a chuckle. "Snape says that Madam Cosgrove dispenses gallons of the stuff this time of year."

The others laughed as well, but Connor's prediction turned out to be correct.

Connor arrived in the usual Potions classroom and automatically donned his apron, stowing his dragon hide gloves in a pocket.

Snape was already in the room, setting out the necessary ingredients. Connor wasn't sure if he'd be allowed to help this time, or simply observe. He wasn't left wondering for long.

"I'll need the essence of hellebore measured out and the fluxweed pulverized," Snape instructed as soon as Connor rounded the worktable.

"Yes, sir," Connor said, careful not to show how excited he was. That was a sure way to earn a sneer from the Potions Master.

They worked silently for the most part, with Snape issuing instructions or explanations as they went. Connor made sure to measure accurately and work efficiently, and was pleased with himself until, two hours later, the door to the room burst open, making him drop a jar full of powdered moonstone.

"Mr Dursley!" Snape snapped angrily. "Explain yourself!"

Connor looked up in surprise to find Rupert had stumbled into the room looking ghastly.

"Sick," Rupert groaned. "Can't make it to hospital wing."

Connor was already halfway to the other boy when a strong arm was flung out to stop him. Snape had practically knocked him down before saying harshly, "_I'll_ handle this."

Connor nearly blushed. He hadn't been thinking, and reacted out of instinct before he even realised it. He watched as Snape strode toward his charge, and Connor winced at the dark circles beneath Rupert's eyes and sweaty forehead. It also looked like Rupert had recently dropped some weight very quickly, though he was still very fat.

Snape peered into Rupert's feverish face, turning the boy's face back and forth in the light. "What happened to your hand?" he asked, seizing Rupert's wrist to stare pointedly at the bandage wrapped around it.

_Surely that's not the same injury from after the Quidditch match_? Connor thought to himself as his hands began to itch: just a mild irritation, but growing steadily. _Maybe it got infected, and Rupert was too scared to go to Madam Cosgrove_.

"I got bit by a dog," Rupert admitted with a whimper.

Snape began to swear quietly as he tore the bandage from Rupert's hand, revealing an ugly, swollen, puss-filled wound with bruising all around it.

Connor felt the bile rise in his throat at the sight of it and took a step forward.

Nothing could have prepared him for what Snape did next.

"Right," Snape said briskly. "You're an absolute sodding _idio_t!" The last two words came out as a shout that made both boys recoil.

Snape then grabbed Rupert by the back of his robes, by the nape of the neck, and literally dragged him over to a supply closet, where extra cauldrons of all sizes were kept. "Of all the dunderheaded, dangerous, _stupid_ things you might have done!" Snape roared, spittle flying.

The next moment, Snape had his wand pointed at Rupert and was telling the boy to step back into the closet.

Rupert stumbled backward in surprise.

Snape simply said, "_Stupefy_!" watched as Rupert crumpled to the ground in a heap, then slammed the door, locking the boy in.

Connor stood with his mouth hanging open for a full five seconds before he could force himself into action. He pulled his wand out and rushed at the door to the closet even as Snape was muttering several different charms over the door.

"You can't do that!" Connor cried, trying to shove his way past Snape. "He's ill!"

Connor gasped as his hands flared. He had the overwhelming urge to _get through that door at all costs_.

"_Alohamora_!" Connor tried the only real unlocking spell that he knew, but of course, Snape's charms were stronger than that. Nothing happened. "You have to let him out! He needs Madam Cosgrove! He needs _help_!"

"Calm yourself!" Snape snapped, grabbing a hold of Connor's arm and jerking him away from the door. He dragged Connor over to the fireplace on the back wall, and Connor wondered wildly if Snape had finally lost his mind and was going to toss him into the fire.

Snape let go of Connor, confiscated his wand, then turned to a bowl on the mantle and grabbed a handful of glittery powder.

Not waiting to hear who Snape was calling, Connor abandoned his wand and ran back to the closet where Rupert lay ill and stunned behind a locked door. He bit his lip against the furious itching and began pounding on the wood and pulling on the handle.

By the time he was frantic enough to begin throwing himself against the door in a panic to help Rupert, he was unaware of anything else around him. There was a roaring in his ears that blocked out all sound, and he could feel his heart beating painfully in his chest. There didn't seem to be enough air to drag into his lungs, and his hands felt as though they might burst into flame at any time.

Connor turned to look for something he could use to batter down the door only to find that Snape was pointing a wand at him and Madam Cosgrove, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Lyra were all staring at him, wide-eyed. He didn't hear the spell that hit him a moment later.

The world went black.


	26. Chapter 26 Dire Consequences

**Chapter 26 – Dire Consequences**

_Great deeds are usually wrought at great risks. – Herodotus_

Connor slowly came back to consciousness with a fierce headache. It didn't take more than a few moments to realise why, and when he did, he sat upright with wide eyes. Hospital wing.

"Connor." Professor Lyra was seated beside his bed and reached out to ease him back against the pillows. "Take it easy. You might be a little sore; that was quite a display you put on in the dungeons."

"Professor Snape!" Connor said desperately. "He put Rupert in a closet and locked him in!"

"It's being taken care of as we speak," Professor Lyra said. "Madam Cosgrove asked me to sit here with you until you woke up, so she could devote all of her attention to Rupert."

Connor relaxed a little at this news, and stayed lying down so that Professor Lyra wasn't straining to keep him from sitting up.

"How do you feel?" she asked gently.

"Tired," Connor answered truthfully, "and sore."

"Grace left some potions here for you to take," Professor Lyra gestured to a tray on the bedside table. "A pain reliever, and Calming Draught, and some Dreamless Sleep Potion. She said she wants you to try to go back to Gryffindor Tower before taking the Sleeping Draught, and that she'll look you over in the morning."

"What's happened to Rupert? What's going on?"

Connor nodded and accepted pain reliever and the Calming Draught, swallowing them down obediently. The two flavours mixed made Connor screw up his face in disgust, but he didn't complain. Almost immediately, he felt the potions do their work in this system, and the aches left his muscles even as a feeling of peacefulness descended over him. He still remembered everything that had happened with perfect clarity, but it no longer seemed so urgent or important.

"That's better," he said in a relaxed tone.

Professor Lyra gave a sigh of relief and sat back in her chair. "I checked your mental barriers while you were asleep," she said quietly. "They're a little battered, but all right to leave alone for the night, especially with a Calming Draught and Dreamless Sleep potions inside of you."

"All right," Connor said unconcernedly, his mind on his bed.

"I'm going to walk you as far as the entrance to your common room, then you're to go straight to your room and get in bed. Take the potion once you're settled. I'll leave word that you're to be left alone to sleep."

"Why? What time is it?" Connor asked with interest.

"It's after two in the morning. Professor Snape was forced to stun you when you got hysterical, but stunned sleep isn't as restful as regular sleep," she explained. "You're going to feel it if you wake up at your normal time."

"All right," Connor agreed. It sounded perfectly sensible.

"You're not to talk to your friends or anyone else about what happened tonight," Professor Lyra said firmly, eyeing him closely as if suspicious that he was faking his placid behaviour. "You're to report to the Headmistress as soon as you get up in the morning. Don't worry about going to classes."

Connor wasn't faking his placid behaviour. The two potions left him feeling pleasantly detached. He nodded. "I understand."

"Good. Let's get you to bed, then." Professor Lyra got to her feet and helped Connor to stand. He was shaky for a moment or two, but steadied quickly.

They walked quietly and without speaking all the way up to the seventh floor. The Fat Lady was napping in her frame, but Professor Lyra woke her by saying the password loudly, and the frame swung away from the wall.

Handing over a glass phial, Professor Lyra said. "Here's your potion. Take it after you're ready to go to sleep. It'll work quickly, so be sure you're in bed when you swallow it."

Connor crawled through the portrait hole with a murmured, "Good night," and then the portrait closed. He wearily climbed the steps to his room.

It was quiet, except for the light snoring of his roommates, and he quickly undressed, pulled on his pyjamas and climbed into bed, clutching the phial of Dreamless Sleep that Professor Lyra had given him. Once he was settled beneath the blankets, he yawned widely, wondering what had really happened in the dungeons that night.

He pulled the Marauder's Map out from its hiding place beneath his pillow and activated it. It didn't take long to find the dungeon classroom where everything had happened. Snape was still there, as were Professor McGonagall and Madam Cosgrove. Rupert was still in the closet and appeared to be throwing himself repeatedly against the door.

Connor watched sadly as the small dot reading _Rupert Dursley_ battered himself around the small room, looking for an escape route, no doubt. It was obvious that Snape had not opened the door and Madam Cosgrove was not seeing to her patient. Instead Snape was pacing back and forth, Professor McGonagall was near the far wall, possibly using the fire to call someone, and Madam Cosgrove was standing in the middle of the room, apparently doing nothing.

"Why?" Connor asked himself softly. "Why aren't they helping him?"

A fat tear fell from Connor's eye and landed on the map, directly over the dot labelled _Severus Snape_. Even his sadness seemed somewhat small and distant through the haze of the potions.

Hoping that all of this would make more sense in the morning, Connor wiped the map clean and drank his potion, not even having time to put the phial on his bedside table before his eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

--------0--------

"Potter! Hey, Potter!"

Connor blearily opened his eyes to find a Gryffindor prefect looking down at him in annoyance. For the life of him, Connor couldn't bring a name to mind that matched the face above him. "Hunhm?" Connor asked incoherently.

"Look, Potter," Annoyed Prefect said impatiently, "I was sent up between classes, _during my break_, to make sure you got your arse out of bed. McGonagall wants to see you."

"M'kay," Connor said with a yawn, feeling like he could sleep for another few hours, easily.

"Get up, Potter," Annoyed Prefect demanded. "I'm not getting into trouble because you're too lazy to answer a summons from the Headmistress!"

"I'm up! I'm up!" Connor said in annoyance, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "See? This is me, getting out of bed!"

Annoyed Prefect just snorted and said, "I'll wait. I don't want _you _to keep McGonagall waiting, or _I'll_ get in trouble for it."

Connor yawned widely and stumbled to his feet, walked over to the washbasin and poured water from a large pitcher into it so he could splash his face and head. The events of the previous night flooded into Connor's mind as he quickly wet his hair.

The prefect tapped his foot impatiently. "It's after ten in the morning, you know," he said crossly. "Some of us aren't being excused from classes today, so I'd appreciate it if you'd pick up the pace a bit."

Connor simply glared. He quickly towelled his head, discarded his pyjamas and pulled on his robes from the day before. He combed his fingers through his damp hair and gestured for the prefect to lead the way out.

Once in the corridor outside the Fat Lady, Annoyed Prefect said, "Go straight to see McGonagall. I have to go, or I'll be late for Arithmancy."

Connor nodded distractedly. He hadn't had a chance to check the Marauder's Map to find out where Rupert was. Talking to Professor McGonagall would probably be a good place to start.

He headed to the Headmistress' office, but when he arrived there saw the stone gargoyle in place, realised he didn't know the password, and was momentarily stumped. Then he decided that if Professor McGonagall had sent for him, she'd be likely to come looking for him sooner, rather than later.

"Here, now," came a voice from the end of the hallway. "Why aren't you in class?"

Connor turned and groaned inwardly to see Mr Sweeper striding toward him with a purposeful gleam in his eye.

"I was told that Professor McGonagall wanted to see me," Connor said truthfully, "but I don't know the password to get to her office."

"Won't do you any good," Sweeper told him bluntly, looking mildly disappointed. "Headmistress was in the hospital wing five minutes ago. Your father's there, too—got here late last night."

Connor wasn't about to wait around for Professor McGonagall to show up--not with Sweeper standing there staring at him. What would his father be doing here at the school, anyway? Maybe he was in trouble for the way he'd reacted to everything that had happened last night.

"Thanks," he said hastily. "I'll just go to the hospital wing, then."

Without waiting to see if Sweeper had anything else to say, Connor hurried down the corridor and up a flight of stairs to the hospital wing. Maybe Rupert would be there, and he could find out what was wrong with him last night.

There were no voices coming from the hospital wing when Connor arrived, so he went in to investigate. It only took a few seconds for his hands to flare, itching and heating up as though he'd stuck them in an oven. Willing himself to fight off the urge to rush ahead, Connor forced himself to walk ahead slowly, placing each foot with deliberation. "Hello?" he whispered loudly, "Is anyone here?"

No answer came, but Connor could see that one small area was screened off from the other beds in the room. He could also see a pair of legs and booted feet sprawled out from a chair, and the hem of some robes below the curtain. He inched forward, determined to ignore the very insistent distraction of his hands while he investigated.

The curtains were all drawn tightly closed. Connor carefully opened them a tiny bit to peer inside, and was surprised to see his own father, asleep in a chair. The bed in front of his father was also occupied.

He only allowed himself to look at Rupert for a moment, but that was enough. The image would be burnt into his memory forever.

There were bandages covering most of his face, along with a thick paste that Connor recognised as one of many healing ointments that Madam Cosgrove favoured. Blankets covered up to Rupert's chest, but his arms lay atop the covers, also wrapped almost completely in bandages, as was his chest, which would have been bare without the rolls and rolls of gauze that were quite clearly covering bloody wounds. Rupert's hands were swollen and bruised, his fingernails torn and bloody.

"Merlin!" Connor whispered, relieved to see that Rupert was still breathing. He resolutely stood back from the other boy. Connor's hands were almost to the point of unbearable pain, so he firmly turned his back to the bed and nudged his father's leg with his foot. "Dad!" he said in a slightly-louder-than-normal voice.

Harry's eyes shot open immediately. He sat up so abruptly that Connor was startled into taking a step backward, and was only saved from tripping over Harry's legs and falling onto Rupert's bed by Harry, whose hands shot out to catch him.

"You're not supposed to be in here!" Harry said sternly, sounding slightly panicked, and fully alert.

At the same moment, the door to the hospital wing crashed open, and Madam Cosgrove, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape all rushed in. All of them spoke simultaneously, causing a commotion.

"Get him out of here!" Snape snarled as he approached. "This is the last place he should be."

"Connor, come away from there at once!" Madam Cosgrove demanded.

"Supposed to go to my office!" McGonagall was saying.

Connor was startled by the sudden cacophony of voices, and stared at them all for a moment before saying, "I'm fine. I couldn't find Professor McGonagall, and Mr Sweeper told me that she and my father were here."

"Sweeper!" Snape spat out viciously.

Connor nodded, and grit his teeth against the pain in his hands. "I need to get out of here--"

But even as he said it, moving to turn and go, a hand grabbed onto his from behind. Connor felt the jolt of the contact through his entire body. Everything was a confusion of voices. A deafening roaring filled ears, and finally an all-consuming agony. He was only vaguely aware that there was movement all around him—each moment seemed to drag out into an hour as Connor felt his bones cracking and his skin splitting.

Then miraculously, there was blissful nothingness.

---------0---------

Connor woke to the sound of quiet weeping.

He wasn't sure where he was, nor did he have any immediate recollection of why his body should ache so much. Every joint, every muscle, every breath he took was steeped in a dull throbbing pain. He couldn't raise up the strength at the moment to open his eyes, but he could hear the nearby weeping and the indistinct murmur of distant voices. He could almost make out the identity of the person crying: it was quite familiar, but then he was drifting again, and it didn't seem to matter at all.

---------0---------

"Connor."

The next thing that Connor heard was his father's voice, calling his name.

"Connor. Son, you need to try to wake up, now."

Connor was sorely tempted to ignore the voice and go back to the comfort of sleep, where he didn't hurt so much. His father was obviously here, wherever _here_ was, and he sounded concerned. Maybe he should make an effort to find out why?

"Connor James Potter."

_Uh-oh. Mum's here too. She doesn't sound happy_. Connor struggled to remember how to open his eyes, and then promptly regretted it when the light stabbed in and made him groan, closing them tightly again.

"Thank Merlin," Ginny sighed. "Connor! We're turning down the lights. Just try to open your eyes again."

Eyes streaming, Connor eased his eyes open, blinking rapidly to rid himself of the tears clouding his vision. He could see the distinctive red of his mother's hair, but it was a bit blurry until he'd managed to lift a hand rub tiredly at his eyes. "Mum?" he asked in a weak voice.

"Yes, sweetheart," Ginny said, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Your dad's here too."

"Right here, Connor," Harry said almost immediately. Connor winced a bit at turning his head, but smiled as best he could upon seeing his father sitting on his other side.

"Where am I?" Connor croaked, his mouth dry, and his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.

"You're in the hospital wing at Hogwarts," came a third familiar voice. Madam Cosgrove stepped into view, and Ginny and Harry both stepped back to let her near. "I expect you're thirsty?"

Connor nodded, and was relieved to have a strong arm help him to sit up enough to sip from a proffered glass. He sighed happily as the cool water moistened his parched mouth, and tried to drink more, but the glass was taken away too quickly.

"Take it easy, Connor," Ginny said gently from a few paces away. "Don't try to drink too much at once."

Madam Cosgrove offered the glass again, and allowed in another sip. She repeated this several times until Connor turned his head away.

"Enough," Connor managed. "Thanks." He tried not to whimper as his father lowered him gently back onto the bed. "What happened to me?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Madam Cosgrove asked as she performed several different charms over his head and chest.

In Connor's unfortunately wide experience, it was never a good sign when a conversation started off with those words. He sighed, and tried to think back. "I remember helping Snape brew a Calming Draught. I remember Rupert coming in and saying he was sick, then…. Rupert!" Connor struggled to sit up, but was pushed back down by Harry. "You don't get it! Snape locked Rupert in a closet and stunned him! Rupert was ill! He needs help!"

"Shhh. It's all right. Rupert's being seen to," Ginny said comfortingly. "That was two nights ago. He's in better shape than you are right now."

"What happened to _me_? It was Rupert who was ill," Connor asked, bewildered.

"There was an accident," Harry said quietly, his voice sounding a little hollow. "Do you remember anything after Snape stunned Rupert?"

An accident? Had a cauldron exploded or something? Connor closed his eyes as he tried to remember _anything_. Had it really been two nights ago? "Rupert was stunned, and…and…and I, what was I doing? Snape was angry about something. I remember waking up and being told by a prefect that Professor McGonagall wanted to see me…but it's all choppy. I only remember bits and pieces that don't really make any sense."

"That's quite all right, Connor," Madam Cosgrove told him, making a note on some parchment.

Connor realised that she must be especially worried—she was using his first name. He allowed himself to be hoisted up again and fed some water and a potion before asking again, "So, what happened?"

"Rupert Dursley was bitten by a werewolf," Professor Snape said bluntly as he strode into the cubicle, waving his wand to cast what Connor assumed was a Privacy Charm of some sort.

"What!" Connor was utterly shocked, and would have thought it a joke if he thought that Professor Snape had any sense of humour at all. "Lupin never--"

"There is more than one werewolf in the world," Snape said derisively. He was obviously in a bad temper.

Harry, Ginny and Madam Cosgrove were all staring at Professor Snape with varying degrees of anger and incredulousness.

Connor wasn't sure how to feel about this new bit of information. "Is he--did he survive?" It was all he could think to ask.

"It happened a month ago," Harry said sadly. "He thought he'd been bitten by a dog. His first transformation was two nights ago."

Connor felt his stomach clench. "He had a bandage on his hand a month ago."

Harry nodded.

Snape began to pace back and forth. "From what Mr Dursley has shared with us, he used a secret passage out of the castle to sneak into the cellar of the sweetshop in Hogsmeade after the Quidditch Match with Hufflepuff. He had intended to steal sweets for the victory party, and when he arrived, found the passage blocked by something." He continued to pace agitatedly as he related the tale. "That something turned out to be the corner of a large cage. He forced trapdoor open, and foolishly taunted the occupant of the cage, thinking it to be a guard dog of some sort."

Connor listened with his mouth hanging open slightly in horror and disbelief. "It was a werewolf?" He already knew the answer, and didn't need Snape's disdainful glare, or the solemn nods of everyone else to confirm it. "Wasn't the werewolf on the Wolfsbane Potion?" Connor asked.

"Yes," Madam Cosgrove said quietly. "We confirmed that right away, but it seems that Mr Dursley provoked it, and got bitten while…while jabbing at it with a broom handle."

Connor brought his hands up to his face and shook his head sadly. It was exactly the sort of mean-spirited thing that Rupert would do. He dropped his hands back to the bed, and sighed heavily.

"Stupid boy," Professor Snape said venomously. "Thought he was being clever, still able to sneak in to steal sweets, right under the shop keepers' noses."

"So, Rupert snuck into Honeydukes, found a werewolf in a cage, and thought it was a dog," Connor summarised, more for himself than anyone. "He finds a broom and decides it would be fun to jab at the 'dog' before stealing sweets. The 'dog' bit him."

"Yes," Ginny said, "The owners of Honeydukes were questioned, and they admitted that a cousin who is a werewolf was staying with them at the full moon, and that they had him caged in the cellar for the night. He'd taken the Wolfsbane Potion, but they also said that in human form, he's normally of an unpleasant disposition. They were quite relieved when he suddenly left the day after the full moon last month, and thought nothing of it."

"Mr Dursley was afraid to tell anyone he'd been injured while stealing from Honeydukes, and so didn't come to me to have the bite looked at," Madam Cosgrove added.

"And then when the full moon came around again, he got sick and went to find Professor Snape," Connor groaned.

Professor Snape still looked furious. "Correct."

"I guess I don't have to ask how I got this way, then, do I?" he asked miserably. "I tried to heal him, didn't I?"

"Not this time," Harry said. "Professor Snape realised what was wrong with Rupert right away, and knew that without the Wolfsbane, Rupert would be extremely dangerous when he transformed."

"I locked him up and warded the storeroom to protect anyone from being attacked by him and to keep you from trying to help him. You were very…determined to reach Mr Dursley, and I was forced to stun you," Snape said stiffly. "Then I called for aid."

"Then what happened to me?" Connor asked. "Why do I feel like I got tossed off my broom into the Whomping Willow?"

"You were sent back to your room after you woke," Madam Cosgrove explained, "and given a Dreamless Sleep Potion to take. Professor McGonagall sent a prefect to wake you late the next morning, and to ask you to go and see her. From what we've been able to tell, you went to her office but couldn't get in. Mr Sweeper found you outside the entrance to Professor McGonagall's office and told you that she was here in the hospital wing with your father." Professor Snape made a contemptuous noise and resumed his pacing, but Madam Cosgrove ignored him, and continued. "You apparently decided to come looking for them and found your father here, asleep in a chair, beside Mr Dursley's bed. Mr Dursley was gravely injured from his transformation and imprisonment."

Connor was listening intently to the explanation, and felt a curious sense of detachment. He couldn't really recall most of this, and it was as if they were talking about someone else.

"You woke me up, and startled me," Harry said. "You tripped backward, and I caught you just as Professor McGonagall, Madam Cosgrove, and Professor Snape came in. You said that you needed to get out of here, but all the noise must have woken Rupert. He reached out, and grabbed your hand."

Connor could picture it all in his mind, but it didn't really have any _personal _meaning for him. His imagination could fill in the rest, though, and he winced at the mental image of what must have happened next. "That's all my magic needed, wasn't it?"

Ginny and Harry nodded tearfully.

Connor was disconcerted to see tears in his father's eyes. His mother cried from time to time, and it was never comfortable to witness, but it wasn't unheard of. His father, however, was usually so…strong.

"But I'm all right, now!" he told them soothingly. "And you said that Rupert was doing better than me—does this mean he's not a werewolf anymore?"

Ginny gave a strangled sob, and turned her face away. Harry rounded the bed and gathered her close before looking helplessly at Madam Cosgrove.

"Connor—we just don't know," Madam Cosgrove said tiredly. "The tests we did on Mr Dursley before his encounter with you were all positive for Lycanthropy. Now, tests on both you and him come up inconclusive."

"On _me_ and….oh, no," Connor said quietly, turning pale at the implication. "My magic makes me absorb any injury or illness…"

"There is no need to jump to conclusions, yet," Harry interjected sharply.

Connor took a deep breath and nodded. "So how do we find out for sure?"

"We wait," Professor Snape said simply, "until the next full moon."

-------0------

Connor was very tired, even though he'd only been awake for a couple of hours. He suspected that a lot of the potions that he was taking were making him sleep while he healed. It was strange that his body had healed so quickly after any other Healings he performed, but this time, his body wasn't cooperating.

Madam Cosgrove assumed that his slower healing was due to the alien nature of Rupert's injuries. That was the only thing that really seemed to make sense. Professor Lupin _had _told them in class that self-inflicted wounds by a werewolf were resistant to magical healing. Maybe this was proof?

Connor was having a hard time accepting that he might not be completely human anymore. Aside from being injured and bandaged like a mummy, he didn't really feel any different than he normally did. Did werewolves in their human form have any sense of being different from other people?

"What did you tell my friends?" Connor asked his parents as he tried to feed himself some soup.

"They were told that you were in a Potions accident, and that your cauldron exploded," Ginny said. "We kept it simple, and said that Rupert wasn't feeling well and went looking for Snape. He found you working on a potion, and the fumes made him sneeze into the potion. You pushed him away, and the potion reacted to whatever he sneezed into it."

"Ugh," Connor said, making a face. "Gross."

"But plausible," Harry said. "We were going to say that he vomited in the cauldron, but the story that's being given out is that Rupert wasn't directly in the way, so he didn't get it as bad as you did. The adulterated potion managed to work its way into your wounds, and that's why they aren't healing as fast."

Connor nodded. "That's as good as anything, I suppose. How is Rupert, really?"

"His physical injuries are almost gone, except for his hand, where he got bit. We're sticking to the same story – the potion is keeping his hand from healing properly." Ginny said. "Of course, he's terrified and very, very sorry. He only remembers bits and pieces of the actual transformation, and nothing at all about grabbing your hand. We've considered altering his memory about you healing him, but it wouldn't do any good until after we know if he's still infected or not."

"He's asked to see you," Harry said quietly, his voice neutral.

Connor wasn't sure what to think about that. Did he even want to see Rupert right now? "Why did they call you when he…changed? Is it because his parents couldn't come to Hogwarts?"

"I'm his legal guardian while he's in the wizarding world," Harry said quietly. "They called me as soon as they were sure of what was happening to him. "I still need to contact his parents, but don't know if I should do it now or just wait until we have more information for them."

"Sweetheart, you look like you're getting sleepy, again," Ginny said, changing the subject. "Your dad and I need to meet with Professor McGonagall, so why don't you go ahead and rest. Maybe you can see your friends when you wake up."

Connor agreed, and was soon dozing off again.

---------0---------

"Shut up! You're going to wake him!"

Connor's lips were already twitching by the time he opened his eyes. He had woken up this way one too many times, and wasn't surprised to see Rachel, Ivy, Quentin and Zack arguing quietly at his beside.

"Hey," he said tiredly.

"I told you!" Rachel said to Zack, elbowing him in the ribs.

"S'fine," Connor said with a huge yawn. "What time is it?"

"It's almost dinner time," Ivy said, setting a huge bouquet of cabbage roses on the table beside his bed. "They told us we could come and see you for a few minutes, but that we weren't supposed to wake you up or bother you if you were asleep. Practically the whole house wanted to come see you, but Madam Cosgrove wouldn't allow it."

"Seems like all I do is sleep," Connor said, not even attempting to try sitting up. He accepted the large pile of envelopes and sweets that his friends were bringing on behalf of those who hadn't been allowed to come. "Glad you came." It didn't take long to see that Quentin was looking at him strangely, and Rachel and Ivy were looking everywhere but at his face. "What's the matter? Do I look that bad?"

"You look like crap," Zack said in an honest tone. "But your eyes are really gross."

"Zack!" Rachel admonished sharply. "Shut up!"

"What's wrong with my eyes?" Connor asked, feeling slightly alarmed. "I can still see all right."

"They're just badly blood-shot is all," Ivy assured him unconvincingly.

"All right," Connor said, seeing Quentin's fake smile as he nodded in agreement, "get me a mirror."

"I really don't think you should," Rachel said soothingly. "There's no need to upset yourself."

"Now it's upsetting?" Connor asked, starting to feel paranoid. "How bad is _really gross_?"

Ivy sighed and reached into her pocket. She brought out a small compact with a mirror inside and handed it over. Rachel glared at her, and Ivy shrugged and said, "He was going to find out sooner or later, and there's no need to let him imagine it a million times worse than it really is."

Connor tended to agree. He flipped the compact open and brought it to his face to examine his eyes. The whites of his eyes were extremely red, and looked like they were swollen with blood, just below the surface. No white could be seen at all. "Ew, _gross_," he said, making Zack chuckle. "You guys weren't kidding. That looks nasty."

"Does it hurt?" Quentin asked. "It looks painful."

"No, it's not hurting," Connor said, "but they've got me on a lot of pain killing potions, so I reckon it _might_, if the potions wear off."

"I can't believe Rupert could be so stupid!" Ivy said, changing the subject. "What kind of idiot doesn't cover his mouth when he sneezes? And over an open cauldron?" She made a sound of frustrated anger.

"I heard that he got detention for a month from Snape," Rachel said.

_A month_, Connor thought, _until the next full moon, and the answer to so many questions._

"Serves him right!" Ivy fumed. "I don't care if he got hurt in the explosion, too. He's not the one stuck in here looking like hell!"

Connor appreciated her indignation on his behalf, but couldn't help but remember how awful Rupert had looked just before touching Connor. How awful Connor must look, now.

His friends stayed for a few more minutes, mostly talking about what they'd like to do to Rupert for being so stupid, but were chased away before too long by Madam Cosgrove who claimed that it was Connor's dinner time as well.

Once they were gone, Madam Cosgrove told him that she needed to change his bandages, and that it might be _uncomfortable_ for him. Connor considered asking if she would call one or both of his parents while she made the changes, but was saved from that embarrassment by the arrival of Professor Lupin.

Lupin looked terrible. His hair looked as though he had run his fingers through it dozens of times, and was standing up in odd places like Connor's was wont to do naturally. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his face was flushed.

"Connor," he said as he entered. He sat down immediately and went to take one of Connor's hands, only to stop as if scalded, unsure what might happen. "I only just found out this morning."

"Hey, Uncle Remus," Connor said, glad to see him. Connor did not miss his uncle's abrupt avoidance of touching him. "Madam Cosgrove's just about to change my bandages. Want to hang around and distract me?"

"Of course I will," Remus said at once, "anything you need."

It was a difficult fifteen minutes as new bandages and salve were applied, and Connor was lifted, shifted, prodded, and poked in the process. All the while, Lupin held tightly to Connor, careful not to make any skin-to-skin contact, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement. Connor turned his face away from the sight of his raw wounds and buried his face in the soft warmth of his uncle's robes, trying to focus on anything but the pain. At the end of it, he was breathing hard and his teeth were clamped tightly shut. He was sure his eyes would be tearing on the their own if the matron hadn't already put some sort of drops in them.

When she was through, Madam Cosgrove declared that he would be ready to leave the infirmary in another two days. She left Connor and Remus alone while she went to fetch a dinner tray.

"Oh, Connor, I'm so sorry," Lupin said as soon as Madam Cosgrove departed. "This is exactly why I didn't want you trying to Heal me before."

Connor's eyes widened at the thought that his uncle had been this badly injured before. "I--I didn't know," Connor said sadly. "I didn't understand."

"I know you didn't," Remus said quietly. "By the time I came back to Hogwarts, I was already mostly healed. You couldn't have known how bad it really was. I didn't want you to. I _never_ wanted you to."

"I'm sorry," Connor said miserably. He wasn't sure if he was apologising for being so stubborn before, or because his uncle had to endure such pain, or because his own foolishness had been partially responsible for his current predicament.

"This isn't your fault," Remus said firmly.

"I just can't believe that Rupert--" Connor began

"It isn't really Rupert's either, much as I hate to admit it. No one could expect a first year Muggle-born student to recognise a werewolf," Lupin said. "It was fool-hardy of him to antagonise any caged animal. Normally, getting bitten by that animal would have been a deserved punishment. In this case, however…" He let the sentence trail off, its conclusion clear.

Connor nodded. "He's a real git, but he didn't deserve _this_. Plus, he couldn't have known what grabbing me like that would do." Connor didn't mention that he had doubts that Rupert would have stopped even if he had known. The younger boy didn't seem to have much of a conscience, and might not have thought twice of using Connor to be healed.

"You don't deserve this, either," Lupin said sadly.

"So we have to wait until the next full moon to know anything for sure?" Connor asked.

"Yes," Lupin said. "I have great hopes, though, since the diagnostic charms don't indicate conclusively that either of you carry the infection."

"What's going to happen at the next full moon?" Connor asked. "I mean, I know that there's no way to tell if Rupert and I will transform, but I reckon they'll have to take precautions."

"Yes," Remus said with a nod. "For everyone's safety, both you and Rupert will be locked up separately. I've offered the use of my home for it, since it's already fortified and charmed appropriately."

"Where will you go?" Connor asked with concern.

"I'll have taken the Wolfsbane Potion," Remus told him calmly. "I can go through the transformation in my own bed chamber with no trouble at all."

Connor put two and two together quickly. "Rupert and I won't be allowed to take the Wolfsbane Potion."

"No."

They both knew the reason why, so there was really no need for Connor to ask. The Wolfsbane Potion would be very dangerous, possibly fatal to them if they weren't infected. They would be forced to undergo any possible transformation without the tranquillising effects of the potion.

Connor took a deep, shaky breath, and nodded in understanding. "Is there a way to tie me up, to keep me from hurting myself if I transform?"

"None that are effective," Remus said, not sugar-coating the subject.

"Because werewolves are too strong," Connor said. He appreciated Remus's candour--he didn't want any false hope clouding his thinking.

"That's part of it," Remus acknowledged. "Binding often does more harm than good; especially psychologically. There have been those who have gone mad when they were bound tightly for the duration of their transformation. Professor Snape will brew some special sedative potions that may help to make you lethargic, should you transform, that will be safe for you to take."

"Good." It was all Connor could think to say. He tried not to think about what a long month it was going to be, and what would happen at the end of that time.

Just then, Madam Cosgrove returned, levitating a tray before her. "Remus, he needs his rest now," she said kindly. "Once he's finished eating, I'll have to ask you to go."

Even as Remus nodded, Connor felt a pang at being left alone with his rather morbid thoughts, but could already feel the tiredness creeping over him again. No doubt Madam Cosgrove would make him drink even more potions to help him sleep, so it wasn't too terrifying.

He didn't have much of an appetite. He managed a small bowl of soup and a little bread, then pushed his tray away. It suddenly made sense to Connor why his uncle was always so thin. It was exhausting to be ill like this, and Remus had to endure something like this every month. Maybe Connor would as well.

As predicted, Madam Cosgrove appeared with several different potions, and allowed Remus to stay long enough for Connor to swallow them all. Connor felt himself drifting off to sleep even as Remus stood to go. The last thing he heard was his uncle's voice saying, "Get well, Connor."

----------0---------

The next morning was filled with an almost non-stop parade of visitors for Connor. Not just Gryffindors, but several students from the other houses dropped in from time to time as well. Connor felt that many of them had just come in to gawk at him, or to see how badly injured he really was, but he didn't mind. Every person that came through the door helped him to keep his mind from wandering into the macabre.

Until Rupert came.

It was lunchtime, and Madam Cosgrove had shooed everyone out. It was also the weekend, so Connor expected the visitors to resume after lunch. He was less tired today, and suspected that he had been slipped one or two potions to boost his energy levels.

He had just pushed his tray away after managing to eat a small portion of shepherd's pie when Madam Cosgrove came it and asked him if he was feeling up to seeing Rupert Dursley. After a brief moment's thought, he nodded. Madam Cosgrove whisked his tray away. Rupert stepped in a moment later, looking scared and miserable.

Rupert's hand was still neatly bandaged, and there was an unnatural brightness to his eyes that suggested either fever or held-back tears. While Rupert was still grossly fat, Connor could see that Rupert's skin was hanging more loosely on his face, as though he had lost a large amount of weight very quickly.

Connor watched while Rupert fidgeted nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Neither of them seemed inclined to speak for a moment, until Connor finally took pity on the other boy. "Would you like to sit down?"

Rupert jumped as if scalded, then gingerly perched on the edge of the chair beside the bed. He still seemed too frightened to say anything.

"I'm not going to attack you, you know," Connor said when the silence had stretched too long. "I don't even know where my wand is."

"I…I wouldn't blame you if you did," Rupert said quickly. So quickly in fact, that it came out more like Iwouldenblameyifyedid."

Connor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, only to wince when he disturbed a healing bit of skin. "Rupert, what happened was an accident. A terrible one, but an accident just the same."

Rupert nodded his head emphatically. "I never would have gone in there if I knew there was a werewolf," he avowed nervously.

"Keep your voice down," Connor said. "I don't know if the Privacy Charms are in place right now.

Rupert looked around, seemingly terrified that he might find an audience standing behind him. "S-sorry."

"You should have known better than to taunt _anything_ in a cage," Connor said bluntly, making Rupert blanch. "But what's done is done. You're paying for it now. We both are."

"I was only getting some sweets! I didn't mean for this to happen, you know," Rupert said with a weak sort of defiance in his voice, completely negating any apologetic demeanour he had upon arrival.

"For what to happen, exactly? For me to become involved, or for you?" Connor asked levelly. "Because I only see one of us in a hospital bed right now." Connor knew that he was being harsh, but the hint of bravado in Rupert's voice had triggered something inside of Connor that he couldn't keep inside. "And I wasn't the one who thought it would be a good idea to go jabbing at a 'guard dog' with a broom."

"I didn't know, all right?" Rupert said defensively. "How was I supposed to _know_?"

"Didn't know what, Rupert? Didn't know you weren't supposed to be sneaking out of the school to steal sweets? Didn't know it was both mean and stupid to taunt a caged 'dog'? Didn't know that grabbing my hand…." Connor paused to get his breathing back to normal after letting himself get worked up. "That's not fair. That last part isn't fair, because you didn't know about that—but you knew everything else."

"Oh, like you never snuck out to get some sweets," Rupert said bitterly.

"You think this is about sweets?" Connor asked in disbelief. His voice was very loud in the quiet space, and Rupert winced. Connor lowered his voice and took a minute to regain control. "Maybe I have used that passageway, but I never _stole_ the things I took. I left money behind, at the top of the stairs for all of it, every time. And I'm sure not stupid enough to force my way into room with a huge caged animal! Didn't it bark at you or something?"

"Of course it did," Rupert said hotly. "It was making an almighty racket—that's why I used the broom! To try to shut it up!"

Connor just stared at Rupert as if he couldn't believe his ears for a few moments, giving Rupert time to realise how incredibly stupid those words were. Rupert, however, didn't seem to think that anything he'd said was irrational.

"Do you have any idea," Connor asked with a strange sort of calm in his voice, at odds with the blood roaring in his ears, "what is going to happen to us at the next full moon?"

"He should," came Professor Snape's cold voice from the opening in the curtain he'd just pulled aside, "I've spoken to him about it at length."

Rupert jumped to his feet so fast that it would have been comical at any other time. "P-professor Snape!" he stuttered.

"I think the problem here," Professor Snape said in an eerily silky voice that made the hair on Connor's neck stand up, "Is that Mr Dursley has little to no memory of what the transformation actually did to him."

"What do you mean?" Rupert asked warily. "I remember some of the transformation. It was horrible!"

"What I mean," Professor Snape hissed, "is that you were unconscious for most of the time after you were released from the storeroom. You don't seem to have any concept of how close to death you actually came, not what Mr Potter has had to endure because of your foolishness."

Rupert seemed slightly confused, but stammered out nonetheless, "So he healed me. He'll get better—Madam Cosgrove said so."

"Look at Mr Potter!" Snape commanded, grabbing Rupert by the shoulders and turning him to face Connor's bed. "His injuries are light now, compared to what they were after your folly. That's not to mention the life-long consequences that he now may face. You were not the only one affected by all of this. By all rights, you should be the one in this bed, these injuries should have remained _yours_, and I can promise you that your wounds would not be healing anywhere near as quickly at Mr Potter's are, due to the nature of his gift."

Rupert was visibly shaking, and Connor truly thought that the other boy finally understood the gravity of what he'd done. He almost felt sorry for Rupert for a moment. That was, until Rupert opened his mouth. "So then…it's good that Connor healed me. Isn't it? He can recover from this faster than I could."

Connor watched in a detached kind of horrified fascination as Snape's sallow skin took on a sunburned hue and his face contorted in rage. For a terrible and thrilling moment, Connor thought that Snape might actually strike Rupert, or pull his wand out and hex him. Rupert must have felt the same, because he was cowering with his arms over his head, as if expecting a blow.

"Get out of my sight," Snape growled menacingly at Rupert. "Go directly to your room and stay there until I send for you. Speak to no one."

Rupert didn't need to be told twice. He ran from the hospital wing as fast as he had probably ever moved in his life. Connor remained silent as Professor Snape worked to get his temper back under control.

"Get some rest, Mr Potter," Snape said moments later. "It appears I still have some issues to work out with Mr Dursley."

Connor wisely said nothing, but settled back against his pillow and closed his eyes.

---------0--------


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27 – The Wait**

_One cannot change the past, but one can ruin the present by worrying over the future.—Anonymous_

Connor woke from his nap after the episode with Rupert to find his friends had returned and were quietly waiting for him to wake.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked groggily, sitting up a little.

"Dunno," Quentin said, "but we just got here about ten minutes ago. Madam Cosgrove told us not to wake you."

"I think she's keeping me drugged so I don't drive her barmy, asking when I'm going to get out of here," Connor joked. "What's been going on in school?"

"Nothing much." Ivy shrugged. "Classes Thursday were mostly revision of stuff we've already gone over. Professor Binns was going on about goblin wars of the eighteenth century, Charms was preparation for Cheering Charms, and Flitwick assigned us an essay about them. On Friday, Ms Grayson talked about hinkypunks, and didn't give us any homework. Professor Thompson lost his voice in the first fifteen minutes of class, and just had us reading and summarising the chapter we started last week."

"Professor Lyra's got us working with crystals," Zack said. "She set an essay on the different types of crystals used for divination. You've got plenty of time to make that one up, I already finished mine, so I can help you with yours. I'm assuming you're learning the same stuff in Care of Magical Creatures as my class, and we talked about runespoors. Professor Grubbly-Plank said she was holding off on assigning an essay until she knows if she can get a specimen to show the class."

"We brought you some of your books and stuff," Quentin said, with an expression that told Connor it hadn't been _his_ idea to do so, "but I don't think any of the teachers really expect you to be caught up right away."

Connor talked with his friends for over two hours and then began to tire again. Madam Cosgrove came and shooed everyone away, then gave Connor three different potions and some biscuits with milk, saying he needed to have something in his stomach so that the potions wouldn't make him sick.

"I don't remember ever getting biscuits and milk when _I_ was ill," Remus said as he entered while Connor was eating. Connor grinned and wordlessly offered him some, but Remus declined. "I just wanted to check and see how you were. I met with Severus, who seemed to think that your visit with Rupert earlier might have upset you."

Connor sighed and finished his milk, pushing away the remainder of his biscuits. "He was just being Rupert," Connor said heavily. "He doesn't know how to think about anybody but himself. I think Professor Snape's ready to strangle him."

"I think you could be right," Remus said wryly. "Want to tell me about his visit?"

Connor told him about how Rupert had come to see him acting contrite, then defensive, about his actions. Remus listened calmly, with a bland expression, then simply shook his head. "Professor Snape will sort him out if anyone can," he said. "Or the next full moon will."

"Uncle Remus," Connor asked quietly, "what's it going to be like to transform? What should I expect?"

Remus studied Connor's face earnestly for a few moments, then nodded decisively. "I want to believe that you shouldn't expect anything at all, because you won't be changing—but there's no way to know if that's true. I reckon it's best if you know what I can tell you, so that you can be as calm as possible if it happens.

"It will probably start a few hours before the moon is actually full, but not always. Keeping busy and trying to keep focussed on other things may help. Like Rupert, you may feel very ill beforehand – feverish, nauseous, dizzy. I usually just begin to feel run-down and tired, and often very thirsty, though I'm not sure why.

"Not long before the transformation begins, I usually begin to itch all over, as if my skin were crawling with ants. That's the skin preparing itself for what's about to happen. It gets stretched and hairy and generally abused during the entire process as it adjusts to its new shape. After the moon is completely full, the real transformation begins, and happens relatively quickly, though it will most likely seem like hours instead of minutes. With any luck at all, you won't be conscious for it.

"Your bones will become almost fluid for a few minutes while they re-shape themselves into the image of the wolf. That's the part that really hurts—bones aren't meant to do that, and they fight the inevitable every time. Your head will ache as your skull changes shape, forcing your brain to do the same. All of this is extremely painful, but the pain recedes once the transformation is complete.

"Because there won't be any Wolfsbane for you this time, you'll lose all sense of your human self. You will a werewolf, only, driven solely by the need to be free, and to hunt, and to kill humans. When you aren't able to free yourself from your prison, chances are, you'll fly into an animalistic rage and attack the only living thing that's available to you."

"Myself," Connor said in a wavering voice. His heart was pounding fiercely in his chest, and he could feel the tears forming in his eyes. He knew that his uncle had tried to be as honest as possible without being to graphic with the details, but it was still unbearably awful to think that he might be enduring everything that had just been described to him.

"Yourself." Remus said sadly, resting a comforting hand on Connor's knee. He waited to give Connor a minute to assimilate it all, before asking, "Do you have any other questions?"

"You said that hopefully I wouldn't be conscious for it," Connor said. "You mean the pain will make me pass out?"

"That would be one possibility," Remus said honestly, "but Severus has been working on developing a very strong sedative that will hopefully be strong enough to tranquillise a werewolf, but not so strong that it would be fatal to humans."

"They're going to try to knock me out?" Connor asked hopefully. If anyone could manage it, Professor Snape could!

"That's the plan. If you change, we're hoping that even if you're not asleep, you will be sufficiently sedated, and you won't be aware of what's happening to you. If you _don't_ change, you'll sleep peacefully through the night, and no harm done."

Connor was quiet, allowing all of this to penetrate his mind and be understood. After a few torturous minutes, Connor asked timidly, "Uncle Remus?"

"What is it, Connor?" Remus's eyes were full of sadness and compassion.

Connor leaned forward, put his arms around his uncle, and allowed a sob to escape him before managing to murmur, "I'm scared!"

"I know you are, Connor," Remus answered, returning the embrace, stoking Connor's messy hair. "I know."

----------0---------

Harry and Ginny arrived at just the moment that their son threw himself into Remus's arms. They wanted to take Connor home during the month-long wait ahead. Connor tearfully argued against it, but it was Professor Lupin who finally convinced them that it was a bad idea.

"It will pose too many uncomfortable questions—too many people have seen that he's nearly recovered from his accident. Connor will fare much better here, where he has plenty of distractions to keep his mind occupied. He has end-of-year exams coming up to revise for, and Elizabeth is going to work with him on learning some Spanish. At home, he'd simply brood until things become so overwhelming in his mind, that it will end up utterly consuming him." Lupin argued. "Here, he has several professors and an uncle to look out for him."

Ginny and Harry reluctantly agreed and left the school only after Connor had been pronounced fit enough to leave the Hospital Wing.

After Connor said good-bye to his parents on Monday evening, he dressed, looking forward to returning to Gryffindor and spending the night in his own bed. Some of his wounds were still raw and bandaged, but there was not enough reason to keep him from resuming his daily activities as long as he took it easy. He was all ready to go, when Professor Lyra showed up.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Madam Cosgrove said I was well enough to go back to Gryffindor," Connor said eagerly.

"Sorry, but it's going to have to wait a little bit longer," Professor Lyra said. "We need to make sure your mental shields are going to hold when you go out into the castle. Another accidental Healing at this stage would be disastrous."

Connor couldn't believe he'd forgotten about his mental defences in all of the commotion of the past couple of days. Loathe to get back into bed, he chose to sit in a chair near Professor Lyra for the exercise. He felt the familiar tug at his mind that said that she was monitoring everything as he took his time tearing down his defences and building them up again. He was surprised at how much of his defensive wall was intact after such a traumatic ordeal. True, it was very thin in places, but it was _there_.

By the time he felt the comforting silence in his head that only allowed his thoughts to enter, he was feeling tired again.

"That was actually better than I was expecting," Professor Lyra told him with a smile.

"Yeah," Connor agreed. "I kind of expected things to be a mess after Healing Rupert and everything."

"I'm sure it _was_ a mess," Profess Lyra answered. "It seems your mind repaired its own defences as best it could once you lost consciousness."

"How can it do that?" he asked, feeling confused.

"It's what we've been working toward, Connor," Lyra said with a chuckle. "Your mind is becoming strong enough to protect you when you need it most, and to rebuild your defences, even when you're not aware of it."

Connor felt a bit awed. It was fascinating to get a chance to see how much he was progressing with his Occlumency—not that he ever wanted to repeat what he had gone through. "So I can go back to Gryffindor now?"

"Yes." She smiled. "You can go back to Gryffindor now."

Connor wasn't feeling quite fit enough to run back to the tower, but he did go as quickly as he could. He avoided the secret passageways, in case he had any kind of trouble on the way, and approached the Fat Lady with the password: _Neutiquam erro! _He crawled through the portrait hole to find all of his friends waiting for him inside.

"Surprise!" they all called. "Welcome back!"

Connor grinned broadly at the sight of his friends waiting to greet him. Even Clio was hooting and chirping excitedly, and Circe was rubbing affectionately against his legs.

It looked like they had the makings of a nice little party going. He allowed himself to be guided to an armchair by the fire, where Clio immediately joined him and began grooming his hair while he answered everyone's questions. He did the best he could without compromising the truth, rather successfully he imagined. They ate the treats someone had smuggled up from the kitchen, turned on the wizarding wireless, and generally had a good time.

The Weasleys expressed their outrage that Slytherin house seemed to be determined to kill Connor off, and half-heartedly plotted revenge. Many others agreed.

"Last year it was Vanessa Malfoy, and this year it's that little Dursley kid!" Victoria announced with loathing. Rupert hadn't made himself very popular among the Weasleys. "What's it going to be next year?"

"Bite your tongue," Rachel said. "Don't invite more trouble than he's already had!"

"We should figure out how to change their password so none of them can get back into their common room without saying that Slytherin stinks, or something," Shawn Weasley suggested.

"We should shove Dursley into a vanishing cabinet," Aiden said with an enthusiastic expression.

"It wasn't really all Rupert's fault," Connor said in a placating tone when the revenge plots against Rupert and Slytherin started getting a little less outlandish and sounding a little more personal. "It was stupid to go to Snape instead of the hospital wing, but he couldn't help it that he sneezed at the wrong time. It was just really bad luck."

With the mood broken, the party wound down, and people began gathering their things.

"Hey Connor," Aiden asked as everyone began to head up to bed, "how come your precognition didn't warn you this was going to happen?'

Connor was about to lie, and tell him that it _had_ warned him, only seconds too late. Luckily Rachel came to his rescue, and made lying unnecessary.

"That's what the Occlumency lessons have been for," she said in an aggrieved tone. "It's to keep him from having visions all over the place. Haven't you noticed he's hardly had any at all this year?"

"Now that you mention it, I hadn't noticed," Aiden said, "but you're right. It's been a quiet year as far as that goes." He looked almost disappointed about it as he bid everyone good night.

"Honestly," Rachel muttered as she watched him go. "Sometimes I wonder if he's been hit with too many bludgers."

"I think I'll turn in, now," Connor said with a jaw-popping yawn as the clock chimed ten. "I'll bet I've got loads of class work to get caught up on."

"You only missed three days of classes," Ivy said bracingly. "It just seems like more because you were in the hospital wing over the weekend. You'll be fine."

"C'mon Clio, good night, Ivy, good night, Rachel," Connor said, shoving himself to his feet and following Quentin up the stairs. He stroked Clio's wing as he climbed. "S'too late to take you up to the Owlery. You can go back through the dorm window."

Clio hooted disdainfully at this suggestion, and Quentin chuckled. "Looks like you're going to be stuck with her tonight."

Zack brought up the rear, yawning widely. "It's been so quiet in the dorm the last few nights without your snoring," he told Connor's back, "I don't think any of us has gotten a decent nights' sleep in ages."

-----------0---------

Connor sat at the Gryffindor table the next morning looking normal, except for a couple of bandages visible on his arm from time to time when the sleeve of his robe slipped up. Students from other tables smiled or waved at him in welcome, and Connor felt very happy to be back. Clio had gone back to the Owlery, presumably when Connor had let her out of the window that morning.

"It's Tuesday," Connor said as he finished his porridge. "Which means Transfiguration and Charms first. I got the summary for Chapter 23 finished for Thompson on Saturday night, and the essay on Cheering Charms finished on Sunday. Binns didn't assign anything, and I haven't missed a Herbology class."

"You sound eager," Quentin said in surprise. "You're ruining a perfectly good opportunity to skive off homework!"

"I can't afford to fall behind again," Connor said. "Exams are coming up soon, and I want to get good marks."

"You should be taking his attitude," Rachel said to Quentin. "I started revising for my exams weeks ago."

"That's because you're insane," Quentin shot back, "The only students who started that long ago are the ones sitting their O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s."

While Quentin and Rachel bickered good-naturedly back and forth, Connor pulled out a piece of parchment and began to make a list. He was determined to fill each and every one of his days with as much activity or revision as possible, to keep his mind off of the long wait until the full moon.

While he was scribbling out a revision schedule, a pretty tawny owl swooped to drop a note in front of him. He unfolded the pale green parchment and read the brief note written in Ms Grayson's neat and flowing script.

_Please meet me in the Defence Against the Dark Arts office on Friday evening at six o'clock to begin your Spanish tutoring. Signed, E.G._

"Got a girlfriend, Con?" Zack asked, eyeing the parchment.

"No, why?" Connor asked quizzically.

"Only _girls_ use coloured parchment," Zack said with an expression that said he found the practice dubious.

"It's from Ms Grayson, saying that she wants to start teaching me Spanish on Friday," Connor said, knowing this would raise questions.

"Why on earth would you want to learn Spanish, on top of everything else you have to do?" Ivy asked with a laugh, as though she thought Connor was joking.

Rachel took the parchment from him and said, "You're not kidding!"

"What's up, Connor?" Quentin asked, taking the parchment from Rachel and looking it over before passing it back to Connor.

"I've, er, been accepted into a Potions program in South America over the summer," Connor answered, telling them what he had been coached to say about it. "The family I'll be staying with wants me to learn some Spanish so that it'll be easier to communicate with me while I'm there."

"South America?" Rachel asked in surprise. "Why didn't I know about this?" Her tone asked, _why wasn't I invited, as well?_

"I just found out myself," Connor said. "Professor Snape submitted my name. I think it's a pretty exclusive program--they only take a handful of students each year, and they have to be recommended by a Potions Master."

Rachel looked both impressed and slightly insulted at the same time. "It sounds like a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"It sounds like torture!" Quentin corrected. "A whole summer of intense Potions studying?"

"No thanks," Zack said good-naturedly. "So, do you really think you'd like to be a Potions Master some day?"

"He's smart enough," Ivy said before Connor could answer.

"I think I'd like that," Connor admitted, feeling faintly embarrassed, but proud. "Potions just seems to make sense in a way that none of my other subjects does."

"And you get to go all the way to South America?" Rachel asked wistfully. "What part?"

"Peru, I think," Connor answered. "That's where the instructor lives."

"I'm so jealous!" Rachel said as she gathered her book bag. "You'll have to keep a journal while you're there so you can tell us all about it when you get back!"

They all collected their things and began to leave the Great Hall for class, still talking about Connor's summer plans as they walked.

"When will you leave?" Ivy asked as they bid Rachel good-bye and made their way to the Transfiguration classroom.

"I'm not sure," Connor answered truthfully. "My parents are working out the details of getting there and everything, but I think I leave the last week of June, and come home the third week of August."

"The whole summer, then!" Quentin said. "Sorry about that."

Connor shrugged. "I don't mind. I'm really looking forward to it, actually."

---------0---------

After his first night back in Gryffindor Tower, Connor had trouble sleeping. His dreams were turbulent and confusing--no amount of meditation or Occlumency blocked them out. He spent the majority of his sleep time reading by wandlight until the sun came up, and pretended that there was nothing wrong with only getting four or five hours of sleep at a time.

Connor worked on his homework, revision, and research for the Marauder's Map at an almost frantic pace over the next three days. He couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom as the days slipped by. He seemed to be living in a strange time flux, where one moment the minutes seemed to drag interminably on, and the next moment he wondered where all the time had gone. He did everything he could think of to keep from dwelling on the fact that his entire future would be determined by what would happen at the end of the month.

Professor Snape seemed to understand Connor's need to stay occupied, and had him doing ingredient preparation for the entirety of the their usual Wednesday brewing session. Snape also assigned Connor an extra essay about bezoars, even though bezoars had nothing whatsoever to do with the potion they were working on.

"Connor, are you all right?" Quentin asked him on Friday afternoon, as Connor was flipping purposefully through a huge book of Identification Charms.

"I'm fine!" Connor answered quickly. "I just have a lot to work on before school's out for the summer holidays."

"That's nearly two months!" Quentin said incredulously.

"I know, I just want to be prepared," Connor said cryptically. "Do you think the Map might identify people by their wands, instead of… no. Never mind, the ghosts don't carry wands, and Mrs. Norris and Filch didn't, either."

Quentin still looked a bit worried, but went along with Connor's enthusiasm over finding the key to identifying people on the map. "That's a good thought, though," Quentin said, "we can't rule out the possibility that the Marauders used more than one charm. None of the other animals in the castle show up, and neither do the house elves. Just students, and anyone with the power to get the students into trouble…."

"I think you might be onto something, there!" Connor said eagerly, thinking aloud now that the idea had caught his attention. "The house elves mind their own business, and would never get a student in trouble unless it was something really, really bad, I'll bet. Mrs. Norris was just….weird. She had some sort of connection to Filch, and reported to him or something, so it would make sense for her to show up, but not other animals around, because none of them is going to go off trying to get a student into trouble. Ghosts can get us in trouble, and Peeves _is_ trouble. How does it all tie into the map, though? How does it _know_?"

At that point, Zack, Rachel and Ivy came to the table, and the discussion went around in circles, with them being no closer to an answer than they had been before. In the end, Connor checked out the book he'd been reading in the hopes of finding something new, and they all went to dinner, careful not to talk openly about it in front of other students.

--------0--------

After dinner, Connor went to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, ready for his first Spanish lesson with Ms Grayson. Professor Lupin was seated in an armchair by the fire, grading essays, but stood and gathered his things when Connor came in. "I'll leave the two of you alone for this."

"_Buenos tardes, Connor_," Ms Grayson greeted brightly. "_¿Cómo se va?_"

Connor wasn't sure how to answer this, so he simply said, "Hello."

Ms Grayson laughed and gestured for Connor to take a seat in front of the desk, while she took a seat behind it. "I said, _Good evening, Connor, how are you_?"

"Good evening," Connor said with a hint of a question in his voice, not sure if he was meant to answer her original statement. "I'm fine. How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you," Ms Grayson answered. "In Spanish, that would be: _Muy bien, gracias_."

"All right," Connor said, feeling a little foolish.

"Here, this will help," she said, sliding a book across the desk to him. "It's a book of common phrases that you'll probably need to know. How to ask questions about where to find different items and places and things like that--normal every day conversation."

Connor took the book, and flipping through it, saw that it was divided into sections and alphabetised. He took a moment to search under the topics and found the page he wanted quickly. "_Muchas Gracias_."

For the remainder of the lesson, Ms Grayson asked Connor questions slowly in Spanish and waited patiently for him to look up the words and work out a reply. She corrected him when necessary, and helped him with putting words into the right order. At the end of an hour, she was smiling.

"You're doing very well, Connor," she said encouragingly. "I've written a list of phrases that I'd like you to translate and work out the answers to before we meet again. You can ask me at any time if you have a question, and we'll go over the phrases and the answers next time. Does that sound all right?"

"_Si_," Connor said with a smile.

Ms Grayson laughed and sent him on his way saying, "That's the spirit! Let try to meet again on Monday."

---------0--------

Over the weekend, Connor got permission from Professor Lupin to play in a pick-up Quidditch match, and spent several hours out on his broomstick, enjoying the spring air and being with his friends. Clio seemed to be following Connor everywhere he went, as if afraid he'd disappear again, to somewhere she couldn't reach him, like when he'd been in the hospital wing. She perched on the top of the Quidditch stadium seats while he played, and then moved to his shoulder when he went indoors. She crooned to Connor as she groomed his hair, as if she could sense his sudden distress and was trying to comfort him.

Madam Cosgrove refused to let Connor practice Healing so soon after his _accident_ and subsequent injuries. She insisted that he rest and finish healing, and that she would see how he was feeling in a week or so before continuing their lessons. Connor was frustrated by this, and argued that he could still practice wanded healing, but to no avail. Madam Cosgrove wouldn't budge in her opinion that Connor needed rest and relaxation for the time being.

The rest of the weekend Connor spent working on studying his Spanish. He dove into learning Spanish as though learning it was the key to fending off the possibility that he would _not_ be able to go to Peru over the summer.

Ivy and Rachel sat patiently across the table with him in the common room all of Sunday evening, testing him on his translations and answers. Connor knew that his pronunciation was off, but at least he had most of the phrases memorized. At one point, Quentin and Zack sat down at their table and tried to decipher what Connor was saying, but quickly gave up and went to play Exploding Snap, instead.

"Wow, Connor," Ivy said when it was time to go to bed on Sunday night, "You're doing really well. I guess you're really serious about this Potions program!'

Connor nodded a bit distractedly. "Thanks for quizzing me on it. You, too, Rachel."

Both girls smiled and then looked at him curiously when he pulled out his schoolbag and instead of packing away his Spanish notes, pulled out a Potions text and parchment.

"Connor, it's a bit late to start another project, don't you think?" Rachel asked, sounding a little concerned.

Connor looked up at her, and the glanced at the clock. "I guess I didn't realise it was so late," he lied. "You're right."

Rachel and Ivy both looked relieved when he put his things away and stood up.

"You've been working awfully hard lately," Ivy said to him. "Don't worry so much. You're all caught up in your classes, and you're doing great with your Spanish. You can afford to relax a bit."

"I didn't think I'd ever say this," Rachel added, "but you've been studying too much. You've been looking like some of the seventh years, going spare over their N.E.W.T.s coming up. Go on and get some sleep."

Connor agreed obediently. As he entered the room, he saw that Andrew was already asleep, and Zack and Quentin were changing into their pyjamas. He collected his toiletry kit, went to shower, and when he returned, found that Zack and Quentin both had their bed hangings drawn.

Climbing into his own bed, Connor drew his hangings, got out his Potions book and parchment, and started on his essay on bezoars.

----------0---------

On Monday morning, Connor was exhausted. He had finished his essay and tried to sleep, but had woken after three hours and hadn't been able to get back to sleep.

By the time he got to his Advanced Potions class after lunch, he was dragging his feet.

"Are you ill, Mr Potter?" Professor Snape had asked him during class, when his potion wasn't coming out the correct shade of blue.

"No, sir," Connor answered honestly. "Just not sleeping well."

Professor Snape studied him for a moment before saying, "See me after class." He strode back to the front of the classroom and continued instructions without looking at Connor again.

The other students looked at Connor sympathetically, obviously believing that he was going to be in trouble for his poor performance in class. However, once everyone has left the classroom, Connor approached Professor Snape's desk, and was surprised to be handed a small phial that he recognised as Dreamless Sleep Potion.

"I will inform Madam Cosgrove that I have dispensed this to you. Do not make a habit of relying upon it in the future. I needn't tell you how dangerous that could be."

"No, sir," Connor answered. Sleeping without dreaming for prolonged periods of time could bring on psychotic episodes, among other things. "I'll be careful."

"Dismissed," was the only reply Professor Snape gave before turning and going to his office.

Connor pocketed the potion and hurried to Defence Against the Dark Arts class, where Professor Lupin met him at the door and led him back out into the corridor.

"Your friends are worried about you, Connor," he said without preamble, tipping Connor's face up to see the dark circles beneath his eyes. "I can see why: you look worn out. Would you like to go and see Madam Cosgrove?"

"No," Connor said tiredly. "I have some Dreamless Sleep to take tonight, so I should be fine tomorrow."

"It's nightmares, then," Lupin said sympathetically. It wasn't really a question. "I'm sorry."

"I'll be all right," Connor said with a wan smile.

The bell rang then, and Lupin allowed Connor to take his place in the classroom without further argument.

--------0--------

"I'm very impressed, Connor!" Ms Grayson said that evening after their lesson. "You've obviously worked hard over the weekend to master these phrases. I didn't expect you to make so much progress."

Connor smiled at the praise. He _had _worked hard, and was proud of himself.

"However," she continued in a sterner tone, "I didn't mean for you to forego sleep to learn them."

"I didn't!" Connor denied hurriedly. "I mean, I wasn't sleeping well, but it wasn't because I was working on Spanish. I was working more on Spanish because I couldn't sleep!"

"Why aren't you sleeping?" she asked with concern.

"Bad dreams," Connor admitted.

"About werewolves?" she asked, looking sad.

"Not particularly," Connor said with a shrug. "I've had one or two like that, but it's been other stuff, too: falling from a broom, being chased by wild animals, drowning—that sort of thing."

Ms Grayson nodded in understanding. "Anxiety dreams. You're feeling out of control of your life, and it's manifesting itself while you sleep."

"I guess," Connor said, shrugging again. It did make sense. "Once I wake up after having one of those dreams, I can't get back to sleep."

"I know what you mean," she said kindly. "I've had that problem myself, at times. Have you seen Madam Cosgrove? She may give you something to help."

"Professor Snape gave me some Dreamless Sleep Potion for tonight," he told her. "He said he'd tell Madam Cosgrove he gave it to me."

"Good," Ms Grayson approved. "Then I want you to go back to your room, and go straight to bed."

"I will," Connor promised, gathering his bag. "Do you have more for me to study?"

Ms Grayson held out a piece of parchment and said, "This is not to be even looked at tonight. Your assignment tonight is for you to get a good night's sleep."

Connor folded the parchment in half without looking at it, and tucked it into his bag.

He made his way back to his common room and was met by Rachel, looking stern. He didn't even have to ask, he simply held up his hands defensively and said, "I'm going to bed right now!"

He didn't even wait to hear her call, "Good!" before he was hurrying up the stairs.

---------0--------

The rest of the week was much better for Connor. The potion he had taken seemed to do the trick to break the chain of nightmares that had been keeping him from sleeping. He still had an occasional nightmare, but he understood why he was having them and was able to go back to sleep afterward.

Over the following days, letters arrived almost daily from Connor's parents, offering encouragement and distraction with news from home. By unanimous decision, none of the other family members, including Ian, Lucy and Adam, knew what Connor was facing at the end of the month. No one would be told anything until they knew for sure what the future was going to be. All anyone knew was what everyone else had been told—Connor had been in an accident involving an exploding cauldron.

Adam drew pictures to cheer up his big brother, and Lucy and Ian sent letters and sweets. Connor wrote back to them that he was feeling much better, and that there was nothing to worry about.

Connor still studied with a single minded focus to keep his thoughts from wandering too far into the possibilities ahead of him, but didn't let his work make him ill. He tried hard over the following week to incorporate some fun into his schedule, though the fact that he hadn't played Gobstones, chess, or Exploding Snap in a long time meant that he didn't win very often.

When there was only one week left until the full moon, Connor began to sleep poorly again, and suffered from frequent stomach aches. He didn't have much of an appetite to speak of, and he could tell that his friends were becoming worried about him again.

Connor only saw Rupert at mealtimes, **but** the other boy never made eye contact. It was obvious that Rupert was continuing to drop weight rapidly Connor began watching him for any signs that the approaching full moon was affecting him in any way. He wasn't sure what symptoms were caused by the waxing moon, though, and which ones were brought on by nerves.

Finally the day before the full moon dawned, and Connor hadn't slept for more than an hour. It was a Friday, and his stomach jumped nervously at every little sound that he wasn't prepared for. At breakfast, Professor McGonagall approached and told him kindly that she wanted him to see Madam Cosgrove after the meal, and that he was to be excused from classes for the day.

While Connor knew that this was most likely the best course of action, he half resented having his only distraction from the coming night taken away. He ignored his friends' concerned looks as Professor McGonagall walked away, and picked listlessly at his breakfast.

"Connor," Rachel said timidly after a few minutes of silence, "what's going on with you? For the past month, you've been acting strange, and you look like you're making yourself ill. Is there something wrong you're not telling us about?"

"I'll be fine, Rachel," Connor said with a tired sigh. "I've just got a lot of pressure on me right now, from a lot of different things, and it's getting to me, is all. That cauldron explosion… I guess I'm still letting it bother me."

"You've been having a lot of bad dreams lately, mate," Quentin said in an apologetic tone.

Connor simply nodded.

"Madam Cosgrove will get you sorted out," Zack said encouragingly, sounding as though he wasn't sure he believed it. "Just try to relax and let her help you."

Connor nodded again. What could he say? _I'll know by tomorrow if my entire life has been turned upside down and if I'll become a human-flesh-craving-lycanthrope once a month from now on?_

Connor was touched and pleased when his friends all walked with him by unspoken agreement to the hospital wing after breakfast. They said good-bye to him at the entrance to the infirmary, **waiting** until he had gone inside before leaving.

---------0---------

"Mr Potter," Professor Snape greeted him as Connor went looking for Madam Cosgrove in her office. "Madam Cosgrove will be here momentarily; she has gone to fetch Mr Dursley."

"Are we in trouble or something?" Connor asked uncertainly. Maybe Rupert was doing even worse that Connor himself was?

"Guilty conscience, Potter?" Professor Snape smirked mildly. "No, you're not in trouble this time. You both need to be weighed, and to have everything that you can expect explained to you before the full moon commences."

"Weighed, sir?" Connor asked, then added, "I've already had a talk with Professor Lupin about what to expect."

"I'm aware of the extent of your knowledge on the subject, Mr Potter, but there are still some items that need to be addressed. Your parents will also be joining us shortly" Snape said this last sentence sourly, but didn't expound upon his dislike of spending time in the company of the Potters. "You will be weighed so that I can determine the correct dosage of the sedative you will be consuming this evening, and any other potions deemed necessary."

Connor nodded, and Professor Snape told him to remove his outer robes and his shoes in order to get the most accurate measurements. Stepping onto the scale, it was easy for Connor to see that he'd lost a bit of weight since the last time he'd been weighed. Still, he was willing to bet it was no where near as significant as the amount of weight that Rupert had lost.

Rupert came through the office door with Madam Cosgrove, looking miserable and afraid. He didn't make any eye contact with either Connor or Professor Snape after seeing them standing by the scale.

"That's you done for the moment," Professor Snape told Connor while marking a parchment on the desk. "You may put your shoes and robe back on. Mr Dursley, remove your shoes and outer robe, please, and step up onto the scale."

"Yes, sir," Rupert answered in a low, sulky tone. He actions seemed mechanical and forced, but he obeyed Professor Snape without question.

Connor had no idea how much Rupert had weighed before, but the number was still quite high, in Connor's opinion, for a twelve year old boy. "He wasn't sure if it was a kind thought or not, but he found himself thinking that at least one good thing might come out of all of this, at least for Rupert.

"Right, then," Madam Cosgrove said once both boys were weighed and seated in front of her desk. "We have a few things to discuss, and you will both be taking several potions over the next few hours. We're just waiting for Mr and Mrs Potter to arrive, and we can get started."

"Why do we have to wait for them?" Rupert asked. His tone was more curious than demanding, but Professor Snape gave him a warning glance anyway, before going back to measuring out a glowing orange potion into two metal cups.

"Mr Potter is your legal guardian in the wizarding world, Mr Dursley. His permission is required for any treatment you receive here. The same goes for Connor." Madam Cosgrove explained.

"What about my parents?" Rupert asked. "Do they know what's going on?"

"Didn't you write to them?" Connor asked, bewildered.

"Mr Dursley has been instructed to keep his own counsel in this matter," Professor Snape said abruptly. "He parents have been informed of his situation, but have not yet replied to any missives sent on the subject."

Rupert's lower lip trembled slightly, but he said nothing more. Connor couldn't imagine his parents knowing something like this had happened and not responding at all. "Don't worry, Rupert," Connor said in his most consoling tone, "my parents will look after both of us. I'm sure my dad will go and talk to your dad as soon as they know anything."

Rupert didn't look at Connor, but Connor could see tears beginning to swim in Rupert's eyes. Rupert sniffed and nodded, obviously fighting to maintain his composure. Connor looked back at Madam Cosgrove.

"There is still fifteen hours until the moon begins to become full, and you will need to be moved to a more secure location," Madam Cosgrove said.

The matron didn't have a chance to continue before the sounds of the infirmary door swinging open interrupted her, and Harry, Ginny, and Professor McGonagall came into the room, making it rather crowded. Connor felt comforted by the presence of his parents, and leaned back into his mother when she put her arms around him from behind. Harry stood behind the seated boys, and put a hand on each of their shoulders.

"My parents didn't come?" Rupert asked quietly, looking down at his hands.

"You parents _couldn't _come," Professor McGonagall answered gently. "Muggles can't even see the castle, Rupert."

Rupert seemed to accept this answer, but Connor couldn't help thinking that it sounded a little hollow, as far as excuses went. He was sure that the adults could have found some way for the Dursleys to come to see Rupert if it was really necessary, but they either weren't being given the opportunity to try, or they didn't want it.

"I was just about to explain everything that the boys can expect over the next few hours," Madam Cosgrove said kindly.

Professor McGonagall nodded, and used her wand to conjure three comfortable chairs for Harry, Ginny and herself. They all seated themselves in a row behind the boys, and listened attentively.

"Professor Snape has developed a series of potions that Rupert and Connor will take to prepare them for the sedative potion that will, hopefully, keep them unconscious and unaware of anything and everything that takes place during the period of the full moon," Madam Cosgrove said.

Professor Snape came forward with the two metal cups that he had measured out minutes ago and presented one to each of the boys. Connor took his wordlessly and sniffed it, to see if he could detect any of the ingredients.

"This isn't a Potions lesson, Mr Potter," Professor Snape said mildly. "Drink up."

Connor looked at Rupert, who was staring into his cup with trepidation, and shrugged philosophically. Professor Snape would hardly poison them at this point. He tossed the potion as far to the back of his throat as possible before swallowing, and then screwed his eyes tightly closed as the sour taste registered. She shivered uncontrollably for a moment and then cleared his throat loudly.

"Are we allowed water?" he asked once he felt capable of speech.

Professor Snape smirked and poured a glass from a ewer, handing it over silently.

"Severus, _really_," Madam Cosgrove said in exasperation. She quickly poured another glass for Rupert, and set it before him while Connor gratefully quaffed his water down.

Rupert watched Connor, and then took a deep breath and drank his potion. He snatched up the water immediately after, and emptied the glass in four long swallows. His eyes were watering when he finished.

"What will that one do?" Connor asked as his mother rubbed his shoulders comfortingly from behind.

"Think of it as a primer," Professor Snape said calmly, with only the slightest trace of amusement in his expression. "The amount of sedative needed to keep you from being conscious of your situation tonight is potentially dangerous--especially if you are _not_ infected with Lycanthropy. This first potion is one of many that you will take to prepare your body for large amounts of sedatives to flood it. Without the preparation, you could very well go into shock and die."

"Well that's blunt," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Connor looked over his shoulder at his father to see that he looked tense and terribly alert. His jaw was clenched, and his hair was messier than usual, as if he had raked his fingers through it repeatedly. His mum had a placating hand on his arm, but she looked very tired and drawn, as well.

"I don't see the point in sugar-coating the truth," Professor Snape sneered. "Knowing the truth will, hopefully, keep either of these boys from refusing any of these potions or taking their situation lightly." He was looking at Rupert as he spoke, but Rupert would not look up from his hands in his lap.

"The potions may have certain side-effects, such as dizziness or drowsiness. They may become emotional to either extreme. We would like them to remain in the hospital wing for the remainder of the day, so that they can be monitored and observed." Madam Cosgrove explained.

"We're not going anywhere," Ginny said firmly. "Do the boys need to be in bed?"

"I have some hospital robes here for them," Madam Cosgrove said, setting one on her desk in front of each boy, "and we've got an area already charmed for privacy waiting. They may study, or play quiet games or do whatever they'd like as long they remain in the closed-off area and stay calm. The closer we get to moonrise, the more we'll have to do and to discuss."

Ginny, Harry and Professor McGonagall got to their feet.

"I'll be in to check on you all throughout the day," Professor McGonagall said in her usual brisk manner, but Connor couldn't helps but notice that she was wringing her hands as she said it. "I am at your disposal at any time if you should need me."

"I have a class to attend to," Professor Snape said brusquely. "I shall return with the second potion in two hours."

He left without another word, the heels of his boots sounding unnaturally loud on the stone floor as he exited the hospital wing.

Connor stood and picked up the hospital robes, and wondered if the possible transformation later was the reason he wasn't being given the customary pyjamas he'd become used to wearing for long stays in the infirmary. He tried to dismiss that cheerful thought as he excused himself to change in the loo. When he emerged, his mother was waiting to take him to the charmed area, while his dad waited for Rupert to take his turn in the loo.

It was a pleasant surprise to find a dressing gown at the end of each bed, one of which Connor donned immediately. There was also a stack of games, some magazines, and a small table with chairs in the area, along with two beds. Set off to one side of the room was a low table and two arm chairs, a basket of biscuits, fruit and other snacks, along with a pitcher of pumpkin juice for their convenience. It was actually quite cosy, for the hospital wing.

"Do you feel like resting now, honey?" Ginny asked Connor as he tied the sash on the dressing gown. "You look really tired."

"So do you," Connor said as she put an arm around him. He rested his head against her shoulder, and wondered when he had gotten to be taller than her. "You could lie down, if you want."

"I'm supposed to be the one taking care of _you_," she smiled warmly at him, "not the other way around."

"I don't think I could sleep right now," Connor said, even though he followed that statement with a yawn that made her chuckle. "I just want to sit, I think. Maybe a game of chess?"

"You should probably wait for your father for that," Ginny said. "I'm never much of a challenge."

"Wait for me for what?" Harry asked as he accompanied Rupert in and closed the curtains.

"A game of chess," Ginny told him, drawing her wand to check that the Privacy Charms were sufficiently in place. "Connor says he's not ready to sleep."

"Sure, I'll play," Harry said, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting in it.

"Rupert, is there anything in particular you'd like to do?" Ginny asked kindly.

"No, thank you," Rupert answered, shrugging into his own dressing gown and lying down on one of the beds. "I think I'll just rest."

"We'll try to be quiet, then. Let us know if you need anything." Ginny said, going to draw a blanket up over him and mother him a bit.

Connor took a battered chess set from the stack of games and sat across from his father. He set up the board and sighed heavily. "It's going to be a long day."

--------0--------

Two hours later, Snape returned to the hospital wing with another potion for Connor and Rupert to take. This one was colourless, and smelled strongly of vanilla. Rupert was shaken gently awake by Harry, who helped him to take the potion, and then let him go straight back to sleep.

Connor downed the potion, wondering how it could smell like vanilla but taste like mould. "Disgusting," he said, making a face as he chased it down with pumpkin juice.

Snape merely sneered and made some notes on a parchment he carried on a clipboard. "How are you feeling?" he asked Connor, "Any side effects from the first potion?"

"Not really," Connor answered. "I don't know if it's the potion, of if it's just that I have a lot on my mind, but I'm really tired, but don't want to sleep at all."

"It could be the potion," Snape said, making a note. "The one you just took may give you some relief on that score. It should make you drowsy."

Connor nodded and allowed his mother to shoo him into bed, as though she expected him to fall asleep immediately. Professor Snape rolled his eyes rudely at her behaviour, but said nothing about it.

"Rupert's been asleep pretty much since the first potion," Harry said to Snape, "though I think he was faking it at first. Poor kid's worrying himself to death."

"That _poor kid_ brought this on himself," Snape said acidly. "It won't hurt him at all to worry about it."

"Professor Snape," Ginny said reprovingly. "He's barely twelve years old. He made some very foolish mistakes, but I don't think that even you believe anyone deserves this."

"I'll thank you not to tell me what I believe, Mrs Potter," Snape said mildly. "I've gotten to know Mr Dursley quite well over the past month, and have a very firm understanding of what he deserves or not." He made another notation on a second sheet of parchment, and looked up at Harry. "No doubt depression is playing a part in his conduct, but the potion and recent lack of decent sleep are probably equally to blame. Unless he exhibits dangerous symptoms such as seizures, vomiting, hysteria or things of that nature, you have little to worry about. For now."

"Thank you, Professor," Connor said as Snape was leaving.

Snape stopped for a moment and inclined his head in acknowledgement before saying, "I'll be back in one hour."

-------0-------

Over the next several hours, Professor Snape, Madam Cosgrove, Professor Lupin and Professor McGonagall all paid frequent visits between classes to check on the 'patients'.

Connor was told that his friends were led to believe that he'd picked up a virus and was contagious for at least the next twenty-four hours, so they were not allowed to see him. He hated that he seemed to constantly be lying to his friends, by omission or otherwise, but knew that there was little that could be done about it at this point.

Professor Snape brought a different potion each time he came to see them. One of them had made Connor burst into laughter at odd moments and sing cheerfully to his parents. One had made him feel what he believed it must feel like to have a hangover. Two of them had to be taken with food, and Connor and Rupert forced themselves to eat bread and soup twice that afternoon, even though neither of them was hungry.

Rupert didn't speak much to anyone unless asked a direct question, and his answers were stilted and monosyllable.

It was late afternoon when Connor finally fell into an exhausted, worried sleep.

He didn't wake until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder shaking him. He looked up to see his father looking down at him with a fierce bravado. "It's time to wake up, son."

"Wha'time izzit?" Connor asked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes and feeling very sluggish and stupid.

"It's time to go to Remus's house," Harry said soothingly. "It's less than two hours until moonrise."

-----------0----------

A/N - The Gryffindor password _Neutiquam erro!_ means "I am not lost!" in latin.

Also, I will likely not be using for postings after the conclusion of this story. Any future stories of any kind by me will likely be hosted at Fiction Alley or on Skyhawke (dot) com. Once I get my account there set up. Please check my Live Journal (under the name a is for amy - with underscores between each part) for any updates or responses to reviews in the future.

One Chapter to go until Foreshadowing the Unexpected is done!


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28 – The Conclusion

_The greatest healing therapy is friendship and love.--Hubert Humphrey_

Connor allowed himself to be guided to his feet, and obediently drank from the tumbler that was placed in his hand. The cool liquid helped to revive him a little, and he looked over to see that Rupert was being supported by Ginny and Professor Snape.

"How'll we get t' the Shriekin' Shack?" Connor asked, frowning when he noticed that his speech was slurred. His head felt stuffed with cotton wool, and he was unsteady on his feet, as if the floor were pitching slightly beneath him.

"We're going to Floo," Harry told him firmly, bracing Connor up with a strong arm. "It will be a tight fit, but we'll be fine. Just follow along with me, that's right."

Connor could tell that he as being _managed_, but couldn't work up the emotion to care. "Feel strange," he said. He really wanted to ask more questions, but he couldn't get his mouth and his brain to cooperate with each other to articulate any of his thoughts.

"It's the potions," Harry told him. "They're doing exactly what they're supposed to be doing. Just keep moving your feet, and we'll let you rest again when we get to Remus's."

Connor obligingly shuffled his feet along, allowing himself to be led out of the curtained-off area and toward the back of the hospital wing, toward Madam Cosgrove's office. "S'there a Floo inere?" He didn't remember a fireplace in Madam Cosgrove's office.

"Just through here, Con, that's a boy," Harry said, tugging Connor gently past the small office and into a larger sitting room that Connor had never noticed before.

"Sit now?" Connor asked tiredly.

Harry puffed out a breath and eased Connor onto a small sofa. "Just for a minute," he said, walking back to the doorway and looking back the way they'd just come. "They're bringing Rupert, now."

"S'nice," Connor said, and closed his eyes.

"Oh, no you don't!" Harry's voice held a hint of a chuckle, and Connor opened his eyes again in confusion. Harry tugged on his arm to urge him to his feet again. "No going back to sleep, not just yet."

Connor swayed on the spot, then just leaned into his father's solid form and relaxed into the warmth and familiarity until he heard Professor Snape's voice nearby. "Go through with Connor first," he directed. "He's more accustomed to Floo travel, so he shouldn't be much trouble. It's only a few grates away."

Connor pushed away from his father long enough to try to focus on Professor Snape, and said the first thought that came into his head. "The firs' years all think yer a vampire, y'know." It really hadn't been what Connor had been meaning to say, but couldn't bring forth the words he'd felt were so important just a moment ago.

"Indeed," was all the reply that Snape gave. "The Floo powder's on the table there, beside the grate."

Connor's face was buried in his father's chest once more, and it was a few tricky moments before he found himself being held tightly to that chest while his father called out, "Shrieking Shack!"

The next thing that Connor knew, he was lying face-down on a carpet beside his father, who was swearing badly. He felt several hands lifting him to his feet, but his legs didn't seem to want to support him.

"Easy, there, son," Harry said. "Just take a couple of steps backward."

Connor did what he was told, and was rewarded with a sofa hitting the backs of his knees. He collapsed backward onto it, and tried his best to lay down and curl up on it.

"Connor," a voice said firmly. He thought it sounded like Madam Cosgrove, but he didn't remember her being in the hospital wing just now.

"Just leave him, Grace. He'll be fine for a couple of minutes." Connor recognised that voice as well, but didn't remember Remus being in the hospital wing, either. What were all of these people here for anyway? Oh, yeah….

There was a whooshing sound somewhere in the background that Connor vaguely recognised as the Floo, but didn't feel coordinated enough to lift his head to find out who had arrived.

"Do both Connor and Rupert know what's going to happen to them now?" Madam Cosgrove's voice asked, penetrating the fog around Connor's brain long enough to make sense to him.

"I know," he said in that strange voice that was not quite his own. He tried to raise his hand, as if her were in class, but his arm didn't want to be raised. "Yer gonna lock us up!" he announced.

There was a stifled sob nearby that made Connor knit his brow and want to open his eyes to find out why his mother was upset, but there were suddenly fingers threading through his hair that felt so nice, nothing else mattered very much.

"Both boys are aware of all of the possibilities," Snape's voice announced. "We need to get on with this, to make sure the potions have time to work fully."

"I've got the rooms prepared. The one was already done, because it's where I normally spend my transformations. Everything's been removed from both spaces, and I've cast Cushioning Charms across the walls and floor, to give them some semblance of comfort." It was Remus's voice that Connor was hearing, now, and he felt reassured, knowing the his uncle was nearby.

"When will you give them the last potion?" Ginny was asking.

"Once we have them situated in the prepared spaces," Snape said decisively. "The effect will be almost immediate, so that will be easiest."

Connor could feel himself being lifted off of the sofa, but no one was trying to make him walk again, which was good. The smell of the jumper against his cheek told him that it was his father that was carrying him, _and_ so he relaxed and let himself be carried down a flight of stairs. He could hear Rupert descending behind them, and his muffled voice saying, "I want my mum!" It made Connor sad; then he heard his own mother murmuring soft comforting things to the other boy, which made him happier.

"How will you get them to drink the potion when they're like this?" Connor heard Ginny ask.

Connor could feel himself being lowered to the floor, and flailed a little bit at the sudden swooping sensation--once he was lying down, he felt safer. He let himself be eased out of his dressing gown, and his socks gently tugged off, but couldn't think why this was being done. The room was pleasantly warm, though, so he didn't protest.

"I'll cast a mild thirst charm on each of them, and they'll drink it readily enough. It's not unpleasant tasting, so there shouldn't be any problem," Snape was explaining in a patient, if detached sort of voice.

Remus's voice was further away than Snape or his parents', but Connor could hear him saying, "Elizabeth's just arrived to see that I'm properly secured in my study for the night. Please, as soon as you know anything…."

"As soon as we know, you'll know," Harry's voice promised.

None of this was making much sense to Connor. He understood that something important was happening to him, and he knew that he had known just a moment ago what it was, but now he had forgotten.

"We love you, Connor," his mother's voice said in his ear. He could feel her kiss his forehead, and could feel dampness against his skin, but couldn't figure out what might be causing it.

"We'll be just outside the door the whole time," his dad said, equally close, _and_ sounding as if he had a bad cold. "We'll see you in the morning."

"Okay," Connor answered slowly, feeling he had to force the word out past sluggish and numb lips.

He heard Professor Snape mutter something, and suddenly Connor wanted nothing more than he wanted a drink of _anything_ that might satisfy his thirst.

"Here you are, Connor," Madam Cosgrove's voice was in front of him, he could feel his shoulders being lifted, then a tumbler being held to his lips.

Connor drank down the drink, which was mint-flavoured, greedily, and was trying to say, "thank you," when the world went blank, and nothing mattered at all.

-------------0-----------

Connor's head ached terribly. The room he was lying in was blissfully dark, though, so he just stayed laying face down on…the ground? It seemed too soft for that, but there was no feeling of texture beneath his cheek or his hands, just an indefinable softness beneath him. He opened his eyes in the dark, and could barely make out wooden floors and walls, with no sign of windows or a door—though he couldn't be bothered to attempt to locate any.

He faded out again, and let sleep buffer the thoughts attempting to intrude into his foggy mind.

When Connor had his next bout of self-awareness, his mind was still very fuzzy, and he had no recollection of where he was or how he had gotten there. It seemed to him that this would ordinarily have scared him, or at least caused him concern, but now he just felt hazily puzzled by it. He took mental stock of himself, registering that not only did he have a huge throbbing headache, but that there was a horrible acrid taste in his mouth, and his whole body seemed heavy and achy to the point where he wasn't even willing to endure the inconvenience of moving so much as a muscle unless strictly necessary.

He slept again.

He became conscious of a sound in his ears, and it took several moments for him to pinpoint the source of it. It was his own breathing, in through his nose and out through his mouth, and his own steady heartbeat rhythmically keeping his blood and oxygen flowing, keeping him alive. It was comforting and fascinating and terrifying all that the same time. Where was he?

More sleep.

Other noises trickled into his awareness. He wasn't sure if they had been there the entire time and he was just now noticing them, or if these were new noises intruding on his solitude. He strained to identify them without moving his body at all.

Was that someone speaking? Laughter? Tears? Both? The deep rumble of masculine voices from far away, and softer, dulcet feminine tones—there must be people around somewhere, maybe in another room. There was a sound of a door opening, and footsteps, as if many pairs of feet were walking to and fro in a nearby corridor. Heels striking against wooden planks that reverberated somewhat through this space and echoed in Connor's ears as he lay with his head pressed to the not-really-a-floor.

There was the murmur of a voice from somewhere near his feet, on the other side of a wall or door, that sounded like someone was asking a question, but Connor couldn't make out any of the words at all. An answering rumble was equally indistinct, but sounded masculine.

Connor furrowed his eyebrows, not really wanting to be disturbed just yet, but unable to pinpoint why. He felt tired and thirsty and disagreeable suddenly, and the ache in his limbs was becoming more pronounced. He longed to fall back to sleep and forget all of the strangeness, but was denied that wish by the sound of a door opening, quite nearby.

"Is he still asleep?" Connor recognised that voice. It was undeniably his mother's voice. She sounded worried.

Connor squinted against the sudden light, even though it wasn't even remotely bright. He didn't try to lift his head or speak or move in any other way.

"His eyes are open." Ms Grayson? What was she doing here? "He must be awake. I don't want to disturb Severus while he's dealing with Rupert, but I don't know if this is normal behaviour. He said to call for him if there was a problem or if Connor was acting strangely."

"Let's give him a minute," Ginny said, coming closer, and kneeling on the floor beside Connor. "Let him wake up a bit. He's had quite an ordeal, and the potions may still be keeping him confused."

Connor felt his mother's long fingers combing through his hair, and closed his eyes in appreciation of the comforting gesture. He took a deeper breath than he had previously done since waking, and inhaled the scent of lavender and rosemary that seemed to follow his mother wherever she went. He heard her relieved chuckle, and a sniffle as she continued to coddle him.

"That's better," Ms Grayson said. "At least he's reacting, now."

"How is he?" came a voice from the same spot near Connor's feet where his mother and Ms Grayson had appeared from. His father's voice.

"Still a bit out of it," Ginny answered, "but I think he'll be fine." There were definitely tears in her voice. Connor opened his eyes again, beginning to feel worried about her.

"Snape will be here in a minute, after they've moved Rupert," Harry said, coming to sit in Connor's line of sight. Harry looked terrible—haggard and red-eyed and even a little bit mad. Connor found it a curious sight, but it didn't particularly bother him at all. Harry gave a weak smile. "Hey, son, just lie still for a little bit longer."

Connor really hadn't planned to do anything else, so he blinked owlishly at his father before closing his eyes again and drifting off.

------------0-----------

Connor was rudely awakened next by two pairs of strong hands pulling and pushing him into a sitting position. Words like "hold him up " and "keep his head steady" were tersely spoken, but Connor was pretty sure that none of these words was directed at him. He allowed himself to sink backward against the torso of the person supporting him from behind, and closed his eyes again.

"Just hold his head, and I'll get the potion into him." That was unmistakably Professor Snape's voice.

Connor felt a firm, warm hand on his forehead and an arm around his chest, but didn't fight being restrained against the person behind him. He didn't even bother to open his eyes. He felt cool dry fingers against his chin, and obediently let his mouth fall open. Someone pressed a glass to his lips and poured a sweet, syrupy liquid onto his tongue. It tasted of citrus and honey and other comforting flavours, all mixed together. The cool fingers pushed his chin up, making his mouth close, and Connor rolled the sugary mixture around in his mouth before those same fingers massaged his throat, compelling him to swallow. The process was repeated again before Connor was allowed to slump backward again.

"That should help to revive him some," Professor Snape said. "Get him moved upstairs into a bed. He'll need a thorough examination as soon as possible. He should be able to speak and answer questions in just a few minutes, once the potion has time to work its way through his system."

Connor still felt lazy and weak as he was lifted up into his father's strong arms, but he was beginning to understand that all of these people around him whenever he woke were there because they were worried about him. He let his head fall against his father's shoulder and asked in a week voice, "M'I in trouble?"

Harry paused and looked down at Connor with an unmistakable expression of relief. "No, Con," he said in a shaky voice. "You're not in trouble. I'm going to take you upstairs and put you to bed, and we'll see how you're doing, all right?"

Connor tried to focus on anything through the miasma of disjointed memories and feelings that seemed to be flitting in and out of his head as insubstantial as mist, but slowly coming clearer. "Where? Home?"

"No, son, we're not at home, we're at Remus's house. Just relax and let the potion work, and things will make more sense in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Dad," Connor murmured quietly. He pressed his face into the soft jumper by his cheek, shivering a little as he was carried into the corridor and felt the air from the hallway against his skin. A moment later, he could feel a warm blanket being laid over him, and he sighed in contentment.

"Straight up the stairs to the end of the hall," came a female voice that wasn't Ginny's.

Connor opened his eyes to see Ms Grayson's kind face looking over her shoulder as she led the way up the steps. Connor could hear more noises as his father carried him through the house, though he was having problems placing all of them. There was the quiet chime of a clock somewhere nearby; footfalls up ahead of them at the top of the stairs, and muffled voices; the sound of someone wailing behind a closed door as they passed it.

"S'wrong?" Connor asked with a frown when he heard the sounds of misery, now behind them as Harry lengthened his stride and entered a quiet room with the curtains drawn over the windows.

"Nothing for you to worry about just yet," Harry said in a thick voice. "You just lie here and rest."

Connor wasn't sure that this was such a good idea, and fought the sleepiness that was still overtaking him every time he closed his eyes. He could swear that there was haze of smoke in the air, and smelled sage burning. Incense? He listened intently. He could still hear distant crying if he blocked out the sounds of movement around him as the bedcovers were turned down and Connor was settled onto plump pillows. "Who izzit?"

No one answered him right away, then Snape strode into the room with a small vial, an eye dropper and a glass of what appeared to be water in his hands. He sat beside Connor and set the vial and the glass on the bedside table before pulling his wand and lighting it.

Professor Snape peered into Connor's eyes, tested his reflexes, and performed several diagnostic charms with a detached sort of competence that no one seemed to want to interrupt. Once he was finished, he took the vial and dripped four drops of a clear, sour-tasting liquid under Connor's tongue. "Drink this," Snape said, pressing the glass of water into Connor's hand.

Connor was surprised to find that he suddenly had the strength to hold the glass, and to raise it to his lips. The cool, fresh water was the best thing he'd ever tasted up to that moment, and he slowly drank the entire glassful without pause. No one stopped him or told him to take slow sips.

As he was handing the glass back to Professor Snape, Madam Cosgrove came into the room, carrying a clipboard, and began her own careful examination, making copious notes as she asked Connor question after question about his hearing, his vision, any pain in his limbs (which was only a mild annoyance by now), and a dozen other seemingly trivial details. Connor found that the more he answered, the stronger his voice became, and the less confused he felt.

As the matron asked her questions, Connor's memory of the previous day began to come into clearer focus, and he began to feel very tense and apprehensive. Why wasn't anyone _talking_ about this?

"It was Rupert, wasn't it?" Connor asked Snape quietly, not caring that he was interrupting Madam Cosgrove's seemingly endless questions. He knew that of all of the people there caring for him, Professor Snape would be the one least likely to prevaricate or beat around the bush. "Rupert was the one I heard crying."

Professor Snape sounded tired, and looked utterly exhausted. "The transformation was hard on him," he said.

Connor's stomach clenched, and he twisted his fists in the sheets as the air whooshed from his lungs. Professor Snape's statement was blunt, but didn't hold any of the anger or disgust that Snape had recently held in reserve for Rupert.

"I—I'm," Connor was at a loss for anything to say. He couldn't suck in any air, and the edges of his vision blurred alarmingly. The whole world had just changed in the space of a few seconds.

"Breathe!" Professor Snape's harsh command, along with a sharp jarring rap between his shoulder blades, forced Connor to take air into his lungs, clearing his vision and helping him to calm down a little.

Harry was instantly on the other side of the bed, taking one of Connor's hands into both of his own. "Just breathe in and out, son," Harry coached quietly, squeezing the hand and leaning close. "You're fine. Do you hear me? You're fine!"

Connor shook his head almost violently in denial. "How can I be fine?" he moaned. "How can anything be fine ever again?"

"Connor!" The new voice in the room was enough of a distraction for Connor to snap out of an imminent panic attack and see his uncle Remus standing in the doorway, looking angry. "You didn't transform last night!"

"I _didn't_?" Connor breathed out in confusion. "But the room, and all of the potions, and the--"

"For the love of all things, _didn't any of you tell him_?" Lupin asked harshly as he stormed in, unceremoniously shoving Professor Snape out of the way and sitting on the bed beside Connor.

"He was disoriented until just a couple of minutes ago," Ms Grayson said from where she was standing off to one side. "He's just barely remembered why he's even here."

"You're not a werewolf, Connor," Remus told Connor, looking him straight in the eye so that there could be no mistake. "You were in a potion-induced state of unconsciousness the entire night and barely moved at all."

Connor nodded in understanding and felt the tears of both relief and horror rise up in his eyes. "But Rupert wasn't so lucky."

"No," Lupin said honestly. "Rupert underwent a transformation."

"How is he?" Connor asked sadly, wiping away a tear with the back of his free hand. He could easily recall how awful Rupert had looked the previous month, as well as the pain of the injuries he had absorbed from him.

"It was an—unusual transformation," Remus said cautiously. "We're not sure if it was because of the Healing you performed on him, or the potions that Professor Snape provided, or a combination of any number of things. Though Rupert's body appears to have undergone a standard change, he seemed relatively calm during his confinement, and didn't display any of the feral behaviour that was expected."

"What does that mean? Is he not a werewolf, then?" Connor asked, looking to each adult for answers they didn't have.

For a long moment, no one answered.

"It would appear," Professor Snape said finally, sounding tired, "that Mr Dursley may be something else all together different, now."

------------0------------

After telling him about Rupert's transformation, no one would answer any more of Connor's questions regarding Rupert, except to say that he was still weak and emotionally turbulent. They really didn't know anything more than that for the time being, and made it clear that it wasn't something for Connor to worry about in any case. He was absolutely forbidden to go and see Rupert under any circumstances. After everything that had happened lately, Connor was not inclined to argue.

"Could you just tell him that I'm sorry?" Connor asked quietly when his father was leaving the room to check on the other boy.

"I'll tell him," Harry had said solemnly.

Professor Lupin and Professor Snape also disappeared into the room where Rupert was ensconced as a patient, and Madam Cosgrove said that she needed to be getting back to the school. Professor Lyra stopped in to see Connor briefly , checked to make sure that his mental shields were fine, and was happy to announce that they were in perfect shape. For the rest of the time, Ms Grayson and Ginny sat with Connor, trying to tempt him to eat, talking, and helping him to the loo and back.

"Why am I still so tired?" Connor asked with a yawn a couple of hours later when Professor Snape came to check on him again.

"You were unconscious before," Snape said while taking Connor's pulse. "It wasn't a natural sleep, so you didn't really get any rest. The potions should almost be clear of your system by now. You should be able to join your classmates in the Great Hall by dinnertime."

Connor cheered up at that thought and tolerated further examinations without complaint.

----------0----------

Connor was just getting dressed in his school robes (which Madam Cosgrove had brought to him) , preparing to go have dinner with his friends, when Harry came into the room and smiled brightly at him.

"You look good!" Harry said, patting Connor on the back, obviously pleased.

"No offence, Dad, but _you _don't. I think you even have a couple of new grey hairs, now," Connor said with a small smile. He knew it couldn't have been easy on his parents to endure the wait last night, to find out if their child's life was going to be turned inside out, literally, over night.

"I earned every one," Harry said, running his fingers through his own hair with a rueful expression.

"You have to look very closely to see them," Ginny said supportively. She had a few premature grey hairs of her own threaded through the red, and seemed inclined to be magnanimous about the subject. "You do need to have a shower and clean up a bit before going to Surrey, though."

"Surrey?" Connor asked.

"I need to go and talk with Rupert's parents," Harry said grimly. "They need to be informed of how things turned out, and decide out how they want to handle it."

Connor nodded slowly. He wondered how people as intolerant as he knew the Dursleys to be would react to finding out that their youngest son was no longer completely human. He didn't envy his father for having to break the news to them, nor Rupert's parents for having to deal with it. "Not the sort of thing you want to send by owl," Connor murmured.

"No," Harry said. "I just wanted to stop in and see you first, and make sure that you're all right.

Connor smiled and held his arms out wide to show that he was, indeed, fine.

"Remember, no talking to anyone about--" Harry began.

"I know, Dad," Connor said. "I have to act like everything is normal."

Everyone stood quietly for a moment, before Ginny finally spoke. "Harry – go get washed up now. Connor, don't forget your things in the infirmary on your way to dinner. I'll be staying here with Rupert until we know he's well enough to go back to school, so if there's a problem, you can owl, or ask Remus."

She ushered both Harry and Connor to the Floo, then hugged and kissed Connor before nudging him forward. Connor stepped into the grate and threw down a handful of powder, calling out, "Madam Cosgrove's office, Hogwarts!"

-----------0----------

"Connor! We tried to go see you in the hospital wing, but they said you were quarantined!" Rachel said as Connor joined his friends at the table in the Great Hall.

"Yeah," Connor answered with grimace, "it was some weird virus or something. That's why I was acting so strange before. Sorry if I scared any of you—I'm fine, now."

"Did they ever find out what it was?" Ivy asked, scooting over to make room.

"Nope," Connor answered. "It burned itself out before they could do much, then they kept me away from everyone else until they were sure it was over, and made me sleep a lot."

"Bet you're glad to be better," Zack said from across the table, pushing the bowl of mashed potatoes toward Connor, who was busily piling his plate.

"Mmhmmm," Connor nodded, taking a huge bite of roast chicken.

"Didn't they feed you at all?" Quentin asked, watching Connor dive hungrily into his meal.

"Mostly soup and stuff," Connor said after swallowing. "I'm starved!"

Connor was surprised to find it was true. The moment he sat down at the table, his mouth began to water, and his appetite returned in full.

"He's back to normal, all right," Rachel observed happily.

"We're glad you're back, mate," Quentin said, offering a bowl of glazed carrots to Connor, who took it with a grin. "We need help revising for our Potions final! With the Quidditch Final coming up, we're all going spare trying to find time for practice _and_ revision!"

Connor groaned as he remembered that exams were only a week away. "I'll help you with Potions, if you lend me your Transfiguration notes for animals to objects."

"Deal," Quentin smiled.

Connor looked at his friends and suddenly felt sorry for everything he had put them through over the past school year. They had stood by him, even when he couldn't be truthful or forthcoming about things with them, and they cared about him in spite of the fact that he wasn't quite "normal". He wondered if Rupert had managed to make friendships strong enough to see him through the hard times ahead of him, and what he would tell them.

"You all right, Con?" Zack asked. "You look a million miles away."

"Just thinking," Connor said with a reassuring smile, "that you guys are great friends."

"Don't you forget it!" Ivy teased.

"I won't," Connor promised, getting back to his dinner.

---------0--------

Over the next few days, Connor had very little time to think about anything but his upcoming exams. All of his teachers seemed to be revising an entire year's worth of lessons in one week, emphasising the most important bits that they could expect to see on their tests.

Professor Snape still allowed Connor to help him brew another Calming Draught on Wednesday evening, but said nothing about Rupert or the events of the recent full moon. Connor took the hint, and didn't ask.

Rupert made an appearance at breakfast on Thursday morning, and Connor was glad to see that he was surrounded by a small knot of other first year Slytherins who looked curious, and maybe even concerned, about where he had been. Professor Lupin told Connor later that his classmates believed that Rupert had been called home for a family emergency. It seemed that no one found any reason to question that excuse. Rupert looked paler and more tired than he had before, but that could be easily dismissed by saying that he was out of sorts from dealing with his recent trip home.

On Saturday, most of the school abandoned their studies for the day to watch the Quidditch Final. Connor wished his friends good luck, then followed the game as best he could from the Astronomy Tower with a pair of ancient Omnioculars and the Marauder's Map spread out and weighed down with books on each corner.

Professor Lupin joined him there and raised an eyebrow at the sight of Connor watching the match on the map, but admitted that it was a very clever solution to Connor's not being able to attend in person.

"Your grandfather, James, used to use the map to spy on the other team's practices when we were at school," Remus told Connor converstaionally.

"I wish I'd known him," Connor said with a grin. He liked hearing about the original Marauders, especially since he knew what kinds of adventures they must have had with the map. How many could he and his friends duplicate before their time at Hogwarts was over?

"He had an adventurous spirit," Remus said as they watched the players flying in formation up and down the pitch. "I think it's hereditary."

Connor grinned and watched the match in companionable silence with his uncle.

Gryffindor won the Quidditch Final two hours and twenty-six minutes after it began, and Connor folded up the map and headed back to his common room to celebrate with his friends.

-----------0----------

The rest of the weekend was spent on revision, mostly sprawled out on the grass with a large number of other students from different houses, all going over various subjects like one big study-group. Many of them had been summarily ejected from their common rooms by fifth and seventh year students who were stressed out over O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s.

Connor didn't mind. It was a beautiful weekend, and one of the last he would spend at Hogwarts until next September. What better way to enjoy it than by being surrounded by friends in the fresh air under the blue sky?

Monday came soon enough, and everyone was embroiled in their exams.

Connor waved at his cousin Marcus, who was the only Weasley taking the O.W.L.s this year. Marcus waited anxiously outside the Great Hall for his first exam to begin, pacing back and forth distractedly. Connor didn't know what he was so worried about: Marcus was a Ravenclaw, and a prefect, and both of his parents were brilliant. Uncle Bill had gotten something like twelve O.W.L.s when he went to Hogwarts, so surely Marcus had no worries.

At any rate, Connor had his own exams to sit for. Today was Transfiguration and Charms, and he wasn't looking forward to either one.

Professor Thompson stood at the front of the classroom and called them forth one at a time during the written exam to watch them turn a teacup into a toad. When it was Connor's turn to go before the professor, he felt as though he might be sick for a moment, before performing the charm with his eyes half-closed.

He managed quite a handsome little toad, even if the spots on its back still resembled the design of little flowers that had been on the teacup to begin with. He felt he'd done reasonably well on the written portion, and began to relax once the practical was over with. All in all, he felt that he'd done well, considering the trouble the subject had given him earlier in the year.

Lunch that day was a quiet affair, with most students spending the time with books propped up in front of their plates, revising madly for the next exam of the day. One of the older girls at the Ravenclaw table even burst into tears and ran from the room while her friends all watched sympathetically.

In the Charms exam, Connor's Cheering Charm on Ivy worked beautifully. Connor thought it might have been because Ivy was almost always cheerful anyway, or because he'd already had the charm performed on him, and was too happy to be too nervous. The written part of the exam was a little tougher than he would have liked, but not torturous, either.

The common room that night--and every night for the rest of the week--was eerily quiet, with only the rustle of parchment as people turned pages of notes or books.

The remainder of exams week went reasonably well. Connor actually enjoyed his Defence Against the Dark Arts Exam, with Professor Lupin's legendary obstacle course out on the grounds. In Care of Magical Creatures, Connor passed his written exam with little trouble, but lost points (and a pocket on his cloak) for failing to learn that he shouldn't keep snacks in his pockets when clabberts were in evidence. Advanced Potions was more difficult than Connor expected, and he secretly wondered if Professor Snape hadn't given him a more difficult written exam than the rest of the class had gotten, but still felt he'd done well.

On Friday, exams were finally over, and students had a week to relax until the test results came out. Students slept late and spent a good deal of time outdoors, enjoying fine weather and relaxing after their busy week.

There was a last Hogsmeade visit for those above third year on Saturday; Sunday was spent in a massive, all-house, pick-up Quidditch match, that Connor managed to sneak out and join.

Students spent the he rest of the time hunting up items that had been lost over the course of the term and packing things away in their trunks. The Marauder's Map was entrusted to Zack for the summer, since his parents wouldn't know what it was even if they see it; Rachel planned to spend part of the summer with Ivy ; Zack was planning on visiting the Malfoys while Connor was gone to Peru. They all hoped to meet for at least a couple of days before September first.

Grades came out on the last day of term . Connor, Ivy, Rachel, Quentin and Zack had all passed with good marks. Along with their grades, there was a list of holiday assignments from their professors and a reminder that magic was not to be used over the holidays. Connor had a short note along with his Underage Magic Use Statement saying that he would be allowed to use his wand "_in the course of his work with noted Potions Mistress Drina Ayala while under her strict supervision, as necessary for his coursework as seen fit by her_." There was also a warning for him not to misuse the privilege.

The next day, the train from Hogwarts pulled out of Hogsmeade Station, taking the children away from the school for two and an half months. The ride was spent playing games and performing bits of magic at the last minute, just for fun. And then, before they knew it, they were back in London, where parents were eagerly waiting for them.

Connor stepped off of the train and was let through the barrier into Muggle London with his friends. He was not surprised to see a sea of redheads suddenly bursting into joyful shouts as the Weasleys greeted each other happily. Lucy, Ian and Adam all rushed forward to greet Connor as soon as they saw him, and Connor allowed himself to be hugged by his sister and his little brother before being tugged into the tumultuous crowd of waiting parents and newly arrived children.

Ginny embraced him warmly, and Harry smiled proudly. Zack's parents and Ivy's parents both waved, and there was general chaos for w few moments until the crowd began to thin out. Expecting to leave now, Connor was just about to turn and reach for Clio's cage when a young man that looked about seventeen years old that Connor didn't know came forward. He was tall, and wiry, with blonde hair and a friendly face.

"You must be Connor," he said, holding out a hand in greeting.

Surprised, Connor automatically shook hands and nodded. He noticed Rupert standing behind the young man, and saw a resemblance, mostly around the nose and mouth. He realised that this must be Rupert's brother , Kyle. "Yes," he admitted. "I'm Connor."

"I'm sort of a cousin of yours, I suppose. My name's Kyle, I'm Rupert's brother."

Manners had Connor answering, "It's nice to meet you," even while his eyes scanned the area for signs of the other Dursleys. He didn't see any evidence of them. "Are you here to pick up Rupert?"

"Yes," he said, sounding a little strained, and glancing at Harry for a split second. "Our parents couldn't make it."

"He's got a new car!" Rupert piped up, sounding excited.

Kyle smiled back at his brother, then said to Connor, "Thank you. For what you did for him."

Connor wasn't sure what to say to that, so he only nodded. It wasn't as though he had planned to Heal Rupert the way he had, probably _wouldn't_ have done it if Rupert hadn't grabbed him. He watched as Kyle took control of Rupert's trunk and walked away, talking quietly to his excited brother. Connor saw that his parents looked troubled for a moment, but then they were wreathed in smiles again and herded their children out of the train station to the car park.

------------0------------

The next morning, Connor woke to find his father shaking his shoulder. It was light out, but all that meant was that it was past four in the morning. Connor groaned and tried to bury his head under his pillow, but Harry just laughed.

"Sorry," Harry said in a teasing sort of voice. "I just thought you might like to go to the cliff with your old dad again, but if you're too tired--"

"I'm up!" Connor pulled his head out from under the pillows and sat up to prove it. "Are you serious? We can go right now?"

"Soon as you're dressed and fed," Harry said. "Don't forget to grab your cloak. I'll meet you downstairs."

Connor dressed and finished a hasty breakfast in record time, then followed his father out into the yard.

It was still very early, and Connor doubted that his brothers and sister at home were even awake yet when he landed beside his father on the same cliff overlooking the ocean as before.

Harry set down a rucksack between them and took out a thermos full of tea, pouring them each a cup before they settled down into companionable silence to drink it. Connor squinted slightly against the glare of the sun on the sea. The slight breeze and quiet crash of distant waves was soothing, making him relax where he didn't realise he'd been tense.

They talked quietly while they drank tea and snacked on some of the biscuits that they'd brought along. It surprised Connor when his father suddenly said, "Rupert and Kyle are settling into their new place by now."

"New place? Did the Dursleys move?" Connor was curious about what would happen to Rupert over the summer. Maybe his parents had decided to move to someplace safer for Rupert?

"Just two of them," Harry said meaningfully. "Rupert's parents didn't feel they could accept a werewolf as a son."

Connor was silent for a long time. He wasn't sure what to say to that—couldn't imagine what it might be like to have your own parents reject you for any reason. "They kicked him out?"

"Pretty much," Harry said truthfully. "I went to see them to explain things. They were upset, to say the least. Dudley insisted that it was my fault and told me to 'fix' it."

Connor snorted. He'd heard enough about his father's cousin to understand. "What did he do when he found out you couldn't?"

"He told me that I would have to take Rupert. That he wouldn't have a werewolf living with his family, endangering them all." Harry's tone was matter-of-fact, but gave the distinct impression that more than that had been said, and that this was the edited version of events.

"You said that Kyle and Rupert were settling in," Connor said expectantly.

"Kyle overheard my _discussion_ with Dudley," Harry explained with something like pride in his voice. "He isn't so willing to abandon Rupert as his parents are."

"But Kyle's just a kid," Connor said. "Are their parents going to pay for them to live somewhere else?"

"No," Harry said with a bitter tinge to his voice. "They're angry that Kyle chose to leave them. They won't encourage him by helping him that way."

Connor looked out over the sea while he turned things over in his mind. He took a sip of his tea before clearing his throat and asking, "What will they do?"

"Your mother and I are helping them," Harry said. "We've got them set up in a small house with a Floo connection set up, and made sure that Kyle has a car. I've offered him a job at the factory, but he's not sure about working in the magical community—afraid he won't fit in."

Connor just nodded. It was exactly what he would have expected his parents to do. Either that, or take in both Kyle and Rupert as extra children.

"At any rate," Harry continued, "we won't let them suffer for their parents' ignorance."

"I can't believe they'd just let their kids go like that," Connor said.

"Fear makes people do unthinkable things, sometimes."

Connor could tell from the far-off look in his father's eyes that he wasn't thinking only about the situation with Rupert, and remained silent.

"You've only got a week until you leave for Peru ," Harry said at last, changing the subject.

"I know," Connor said with a half smile. "I'm a bit nervous. I'm not sure what to expect."

"Expect to do your best, and learn as much as you can, and it'll be worth it." Harry advised. "We're sending you so you can learn firsthand from another Healer. We don't expect you to do anything more than that."

Connor already knew this, but it was nice to hear. "Thanks, Dad."

"We're proud of you Connor," Harry said, resting a hand on Connor's shoulder and giving a little squeeze. "Ready to go home?"

Connor got to his feet and took one more look around before picking up his broom, ready for his next adventure.

END.


End file.
